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OF WAR AND ADVEHTURE f 


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23. Cell No. 13. By Edwin H. Trafton. 

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THE 


Council of Ten 


SYLVANUS <^OBB, JR. 


AUTHOR OF 


* THE GOLDEN EAGLE, 


“BEN HAMED,” 
ETC., ETC. 


f THE KING 8 .TALISMAN, 



NEW YORK 

STREET & SMITH, Publishers 

238 William Street 



r- 



Copyright, 1889, 

By J. S. OGILVIE 

Copyright, 1900, 

By STREET & SMITH 


m. 



The Council ofTen 


CHAPTER I. 

THE MIDNIGHT SESSION. 

Near the commencement of the fourteenth cen- 
tury, while Pedro Gradenigo reigned as doge Jt 
Venice, three nobles, who were famous for th.** 
disloyal schemes during the latter part of the reign 
of Francesco Dandolo, formed a plot for the ever, 
turn of the Venetian government ; but before their 
scheme could be carried into execution, their designs 
were discovered, and though they fought bravely 
for nean/ a whole day, yet they were conquered, 
and, after an investigation of the affair, most of the 
conspirators allowed to leave the city. For the ex- 
amination of this conspiracy, a commission, con- 
sisting of ten members of the senate, was appointed 
whose term of office was limited fo fourteen days, 
but afterwards the time was extended ; and, after 
various prorogations, it was, during the reign of 
Francesco Dandolo, declared perpetual, under the 
name of “ Council of Ten,” and it has sines been 
one of the most important features of that govern- 
ment. The peculiar office of this council is to pro- 


2 


THE MIDNIGHT SESSION. 


tect the people from the unjust exercise of power by 
the nobility, and likewise to protect the state from 
the influence of treason and faction ; consequently 
it is not regulated by any stated laws, but is subject 
only to its own judgment, and the force of circum- 
stances, and is, moreover, entirely independent of 
the senate. In order to carry out their plans, the 
Ten employ, as their spies, a crowd of monks, gon- 
doliers, and lackeys, who are scattered all over 
Venice and its dependencies, so that even the most 
confidential servant of a noble may be a spy upon 
his master’s actions, ready to convey the intelli- 
gence of the slightest appearance of treason to the 
dreaded council. 

The dark mantle of night had been for several 
hours spread over the city of Venice, and though 
midnight was near at band, still the Council of Ten 
was in session, awaiting the arrival of one of its 
busiest spies. Just as the bells of St. Mark tolled 
the hour of twelve, the Ten were relieved of their 
anxiety by the secret signal of the expected mes- 
senger, and the next moment he was ushered into 
their presence. 

“Well, Niccoli,” said the chief of the % council, 
“ what news do you bring us of this bravo ?’ 

“If you mean Martelino,” replied the spy, “I 
can give you but little information.” 

“ I do mean Martelino. Did you not see him?” 

“ Yes,” answered the spy. “ I saw him at one 
of the casinos over beyond San Paolo, and I used 
every means in my power to get at his character, 
and also to ascertain where he came from; but it 
was of no use, for he seemed to mistrust in a mo- 


THE MIDNIGHT SESSION. 


3 


ment what my intentions were, and he gave such 
answers that I was completely baffled. Of one 
thing, however, I am sure — he is engaged in some 
business which he desires to keep secret, but 
whether it concerns only himself, or whether it is 
aimed against the state, is more than I have yet 
been able to discover.” 

“ And what of the patrician Trivisano — have you 
seen him ?” said the chief. 

“No, I have not seen him; but I have two trusty 
spies in his ow r n household, and we shall be sure to 
hear of his movements.” 

“Well,” said the chief, as he rolled up a small 
bundle of parchment, and placed it in his bosom 
“ I had hoped to learn more of this bravo, but as it 
is, we must wait for further developments. Let all 
the spies whom you can trust be set upon his track, 
and be sure that he does not leave Venice.” 

“ But why not arrest him and bring him before 
the council at once?” suggested Niccoli. 

“Because,” answered the chief, “that would 
spoil the whole; for we have reason to suspect that 
he is engaged in some conspiracy, and in order to 
get at the secret we must move cautiously. ” 

“Very well,” returned the spy, “I will do all I 
can, and you shall learn the result of my efforts.” 

As Niccoli closed, he made a respectful bow to the 
councilors, and withdrew from the chamber, soon 
after which the council broke up, but with the 
understanding that they were to meet again on the 
following night. 

As Niccoli stepped from the council chamber into 
the street, he drew his cloak up around the lower 


£ THE MIDNIGHT SESSION. 

part of his face, and started off at a quick walk. 
He was a powerfully-built man, with a counte- 
nance upon which one might gaze for a long time 
without arriving at any definite conclusions con- 
cerning his true character, for there was a peculiar 
expression of secret cunning about his quick, sharp 
eye and compressed lip, that would baffle the keen- 
est observer of human nature, from the very fact 
that these lineaments, by which one would seek to 
read his character, were ever changing in their 
signs and tokens. From forty to fifty years must 
have passed over his head, but his exact age was 
as uncertain as his character. He had been the 
chief spy of the Council of Ten for about five years, 
and to him was intrusted the duties not only of 
looking after suspicious characters, but also the 
power of establishing the means of espionage where- 
ever he thought proper. To the council he -was a 
most valuable servant, for during the time he had 
been employed to serve them, but one single in- 
dividual whom he sought had escaped him — not a 
cabal could exist, nor a secret meeting of any kind 
take place, but their whole proceedings were known 
to the dreaded Niccoli. No one knew how or where 
he gained his intelligence, only they knew that all 
their plans were sure to be discovered. One man, 
however, had baffled his ingenuity — Marco Martel- 
ino, the bravo, always escaped him, and still he 
knew that this same bravo was engaged in nearly 
all the plots which he had discovered, for Martelino 
made no secret of his daring movements. 

Niccoli walked on till he had leached the palace 
of the patrician, Marino Trivisano, where he 


THE MIDNIGHT SESSION. 


5 


stopped, and after looking cautiously around to 
see that he was not observed, he noiselessly 
approached a small, latticed door, which he opened 
with a key of his own, and entered the building. 
The way which he tock seemed to be a sort of 
secret passage, and after threading several intricate 
windings he entered a small apartment at a remote 
angle of the building, within which sat a man 
engaged in carving a wooden model from a small 
key, which ever and anon he compared with the 
work before him. 

“Ah, Niccoli,” exclaimed the workman, as the 
spy entered. 

“ — sh ! not so loud, Pascal. I would not have 
that name heard within these walls by any ears 
save your own,” said Niccoli, as he carefully secured 
the door by which he had entered. 

“ Oh, you need not fear, for there is no one in 
this part of the building save ourselves. ” 

“Never mind that,” quietly replied the spy; 
“there are walls very near to us, and you know 
not how many ears a wall may hide. When you 
have been exposed to danger as long as I have, you 
will learn to fear even a stone when you would 
conceal a secret. The Lord Trivisano must not 
know that I have ever been in this place.” 

“ He will never gain that information from any 
indiscretion of mine.” 

“I believe you, Pascal, and all I would urge 
upon you is caution. But now to business. In 
the first place, when can you let me have the 

i >yp V 

" That is more than ! can tell,” replied Pascal 


6 


THE MIDNIGHT SESSION. 


Lodetti, as he held up the wooden model upon 
which he had been at work. 

“ This is the first one, and you know there are five 
more, and I can only work at them after my lord 
has retired, and even then I must run my risk of 
getting them.” 

“ Very well,” said Niecoli, taking up the model 
and examining it ; “ just do them as soon as possi- 
ble — I can expect no more. But now what of 
Martelino ? has he been here to-night ?” 

“I think he has. At any rate, there has been 
a man conversing with my master who answers 
very well to the description I have heard of 
him.” 

“ Was he a large, powerfully -built man ?” the spy 
asked. 

“Yes,” answered Pascal. 

“ Bid he have a little stoop in. his gait V 

“Yes.” . 

“ And was he slightly humped upon the back F 

“Exactly.” 

“ Did he sit forward and rest his hand upon his 
knees when he conversed V 

“Yes.” 

“ Did you get a glimpse of his face V 

“ Yes ; and an uglier-looking set of features I 
never saw.” 

“ That is the man,” replied Niccoli, while a pecu- 
liar smile rested upon his bps, called by the earnest- 
ness of his companion’s last remark. “ But did you 
hear their conversation ?” 

“Not much of it,” answered Pascal; “but I 
heard enough to know that they are engaged in 


THE MIDNIGHT SESSION. 


7 


some plot against the state, and that there are oth- 
ers beside them who are also engaged in it. ” 

“So far, so good. Now, Pascal, this is some- 
thing which you will not mention to a living soul 
You understand it V 

“Yes,” replied Pascal, while a slight trembling 
he could not suppress, seized his limbs, as he saw 
the keen eyes of the spy fixed upon him. 

“ There is one thing which I desire that you should 
do for me,” continued Niccoli, “and that is to find 
out how many of the other servants are particularly 
attached to their master.” 

“ Oh, as to that, I can tell you now. Over half 
of them dislike him altogether, and were it not 
that all the good places in Venice are already filled, 
they would not stay with him another week.” 

“ Then I must trust you with an important duty, 
but it is one which you can easily perform, if you 
are careful. I want six good, trusty servants to be 
set upon the watch, so that you can get such infor- 
mation from them as you may desire, and it may 
be that they will be needed for something mors, 
important, before long. Do you think you can do 
it ?” 

“ I know I can,” replied Pascal, confidently. 

“Then,” said Niccoli, as he rose to go, “I shall 
leave the matter in your hands, and I trust that 
you will exercise all the discrimination you are 
master of in the work.” 

Pascal Modetti promised to do his best, and the 
Spy of the Ten seemed satisfied with the result of 
the interview. 

As Niccoli stepped upon the pavement in front of 


8 


THE MIDNIGHT SESSION. 


Trivisano’s piazza, a very close observer might 
have seen a tear glisten in his eye, but it was gone 
in a moment, and he murmured : 

“ O Venice, I love thee as a mother, and I swear 
to protect thee so long as there is one drop of blood 
in my veins !” 

He stood in silence for several minutes, appar- 
ently engaged in deep thought. Then, after anoth- 
er look at Trivisano’s palace, he turned on his heel 
and was gone. 


CHAPTER II. 


THE TWO GONDOLAS. 

On the evening succeeding the interview of the 
spy and. Pascal Moretti, a small gondola put off 
from a spot near Rialto, and smoothly glided down 
the Grand Canal toward the long row of splendid 
palaces which flanked the water. 

The boat was propelled by a youth of not more 
than one-and-twenty summers, over whose whole 
form was thrown that peculiar grace and ease which 
never fails to arrest and enchain the attention ; but 
his countenance was the most remarkable, for it 
presented a theme for deep study. There was none 
of that effeminacy which marks the votary of ease 
and pleasure, and which so many mistake for 
beauty ; but though his face was pale and slightly 
haggard, still it was handsome in the extreme- 
handsome from the fact that there was something 
there to be loved besides mere physical beauty, some- 
thing which told of a pure and lofty mind, some- 
thing which spoke to the sympathizing heart of 
a soul that beamed with all the finest gleams of 
humanity. 

Such was Alberte Lioni, one of the most promis- 
ing young artists of Venice. 

Twelve years before, Giovanni Marcello, one of 
the most powerful nobles of Venice, had been 


10 


THE TWO GONDOLAS. 


arrested-for treason, and the council sentenced him 
to perpetual banishment, together with his whole 
family, and ordered that the names and arms of 
the house of Marcello should be stricken from the 
patrician list. 

A few years after his banishment, the elder Mar- 
cello wrote to the senate, and asked that his son, 
Alberte, might be allowed to return to his native 
city, and pursue his studies. ‘ £ Though God knows 
that I am innocent of the crime you have imputed 
to me, and perhaps He alone, yet you all know my 
poor boy is innocent,” wrote the banished noble, 
and so feelingly did he set forth his claims, that the 
council which had been formed since Marcello was 
banished, consented that the boy might come to 
Venice, but with the pi’oviso that he should take 
some other name than that of his father, and 
that he should never lay claim to patrician 
rank. 

Under the name of Lioni, therefore, the young 
Alberte came to his native city, and as he easily 
found friends, he had no difficulty in pursuing his 
studies. The stately palace which had once been 
his father’s, and where his own feet had trod out 
their childish gambols, was now in the possession 
of Marino Trivisano ; and often, as he passed its 
marble front, would a tear start to his eye while 
the thought of his poor father’s sufferings came 
across his mind ; for himself he cared but little, for 
he had already marked out for himself a brilliant 
course of life, and he even now pictured in the 
future a laurel wreath of fame for the name of Lio- 
ni, more blight and lasting than the diamond of 


11 


THE TWO GONDOLAS. 


the ducal bonnet of Venice, or the bauble of pomp- 
ous nobility. 

When Alberte Lioni dreamed this dream, he little 
knew what strange desires a few years might 
bring to his soul. 

The youth had been in Venice but three years, 
when he received the melancholy intelligence of his 
father’s death, who had not been able to stand up 
tinder the severe shock he had received. Six years 
had he dragged out in a foreign land, and then the 
name of Marcello ceased to be spoken. 

In the last letter which he indited to his son just- 
before his death, he wrote : 

“ In a few hours, Alberte, there will be none left 
to bear the name of my house. You are forced to 
bear another, but though people may only know 
you as Lioni, the young student, yet do not cease 
to remember that G<jd knows you are the son of an 
honest man, and may you never tarnish that honor, 
which all the councils and senates in Christendom 
cannot take from you. When your mother died, 
she uttered her last prayer for you, and I now do 
the same. God bless you my son. Farewell !” 

This was a sad blow to the youth, but with a firm 
resolution to perform his duties truly and faithfully 
he pursued his onward course; and now, when he is 
introduced to the reader, he has nearly reached the 
end of his studies, and hopes soon to produce some- 
thing of which he can be proud; but in doing this 
he has well-nigh undermined his health, as a look at 
his pale features will show. 

Alberte rowed on. As he rested upon his oars, 
his eyes wandered along the flashing waves un til 
they rested upon a cluster of islands, which separate 


12 THE TWO GONDOLAS. 

the laguna from the gulf, and which serve in. a 
great measure to break the force of the Adriatic 
storms before they reach the city, and so intently 
was his attention fixed upon the scene, and so 
sweetly was his artist’s soul drinking in the inspira- 
tion of the time and place, that he did not notice 
another gondola, which had approached near to 
where his own lay. While he yet sat gazing upon 
nature’s fair picture, he was suddenly aroused by 
the strange stillness of the air, and as he looked 
around upon the dark surface of the waters, he 
found the gentle ripples, which had but a few mo- 
ments before been dancing merrily in the moon’s 
bright beams, had now sunk into a smooth mirror, 
which was reflecting a darkening sky, while far 
away over the domes and spires of Venice, were 
rising a mass of sable clouds, whose frowning sum- 
mits already reached half-way to the zenith. As 
he quickly turned the head of his light craft toward 
the city, he noticed the other gondola, and a slight 
shudder ran through his frame as he saw it con- 
tained only two females. 

“Back, back!” he shouted, as soon as he noticed 
them. “Back, for your lives !” 

But there was no need for this warning, for be- 
fore he spoke, the females’ gondola was on the 
move, and Alberte found that their boat skipped 
over the water faster than his own. 

The clouds grew thicker and rose faster, and be- 
fore many moments a light moaning like a low 
growl of the forest monarch, broke upon the young 
man’s ears, and the next instant the storm was 
upon thorn in all its ungovernable fury. 


THE TWO GONDOLAS. 


13 


At length, not more than fifteen minutes after the 
storm broke, a sheet of flame poured forth from the 
inky heavens, and as it danced in its fearful vivid- 
ness over the canal, Alberte was for a few moments 
completely blinded by its lurid power; but simul- 
taneously with the roar of the dreaded thunder 
there came upon the young man’s ears a shriek so 
sharp and piercing that he forgot the shock he had 
just received, and leaping quickly up in his boat, 
he strained his eyes through the darkness to where 
he had last seen the gondola. 

His heart leaped with a quick bound as another 
flash of lightning lit up the foam-lashed water, and 
revealed to his gaze the fearful work which had 
been wrought by the preceding heaven-sent bolt. 
There, about a cable’s length ahead, he distinctly 
saw the two females clinging to two separate por- 
tions of their ill-fated gondola, which had been rent 
in twain by the fatal fluid, sending forth their fast 
weakening cries for help. 

With a power which he never before knew him- 
self to be possessed of, did he ply his short, stout 
oars, and in a few minutes he reached the one near- 
est to him, whom he grasped with a firm hold, 
while yet she was crying for help. As Alberte 
raised her to his boat, she cast one imploring glance 
upwards which was revealed by the still lurid 
heavens, and murmuring, “ Save my mistress ! for 
God’s sake, save my young mistress !” she fell back 
totally insensible to the dangers which had beset 
her. 

Had Alberte lost another moment it would have 


14 


THE TWO GONDOLAS. 


been too late to finish his work of salvation, for as 
he turned he could just distinguish through the 
gloom a portion of the wreck, and the flutter of a. 
white garment, just beneath it, which w T as being 
swept past him by the angry Avind. With a quick 
movement he seized a boat hook, which happened 
to lay above the thwarts, and was just in season to 
grasp the wreck before it was swept away forever, 
while with another movement he caught the lash- 
ing of his signal mast for support, and reaching as 
far out as possible, he was just able to lay hold on the 
girl’s garment, at the very moment when her weak- 
ened hold had left her only support, and with an al- 
most superhuman effort — at least for one like him — 
he raised the insensible form of the drowning fe- 
male into his boat. 

Alberte Lioni once more grasped his oars, and for 
a few moments he pulled bravely up against the 
storm, but nature had done her utmost in the fierce 
struggle which had passed, and the heroic youth 
felt that he could do no more. He felt his muscles 
beginning to relax — a mist was gathering before his 
eyes, through which even the vivid lightning failed 
to penetrate, his head grew dizzy, and his brain 
reeled in unison with the frail bark he would have 
forced onward. Once, and only once, after his arms 
refused their office, did Alberte feel sensible to any- 
thing about him ; he felt that he must give up to 
the giant storm, that the lives that he had saved 
must, after all, be lost, and that his own, as well, 
must return to God who gave it; then came a 
shock, like the meeting of two surging bodies, and 


THE TWO GONDOLAS. 


15 


the next moment he felt himself borne away by 
some invisible power. One single sentence trembled 
upon his lips : 

“ Father — mother — I come to meet you !” and 
Alberte Lioni sank into the darkness of mental 
night. 


CHAPTER III 


THE BRAVO OF VENICE. 

At the time when the storm first broke, there was 
standing, far down the bank of the canal, near the 
spot where the ill-fated gondola was destroyed, a 
large man, who seemed to be watching the progress 
of the two boats. 

His height was slightly over six feet, and his 
muscular frame was developed in proportion, while 
the only defect in his build was a slight stoop, and 
> somewhat of a hump on the top of his back, but 
even this gave to his stout frame a look of more 
than ordinary physical power, even for one so large 
as himself. On his head he wore a wide-rimmed 
sombrero, from the right of which waved a large 
black ostrich feather, while his face, catching the 
shade of the dark plume, looked almost as lowering 
as the storm itself. 

When the gondola in which were the two females 
was rent in twain, the stranger uttered an exclama 
tion of horror — betraying a very different feeling 
from what his appearance would seem to indicate — 
and with a quick bound he started for the nearest 
boat. 

This he found chained, but with one sweep of his 
mighty arms he tore the staple from its post, and in 
a moment more he was shooting away for the scene 


THE BRAVO OF VENICE. 


IT 


of disaster ; but before he reached it the two girls 
had been transferred to the gondola of Alberte 
Lioni. 

The new comer was just in season to grasp the 
young man as he was falling back upon his seat, 
and it was the work of but a few moments to place 
all three in his own boat ; then he plied his oars 
with a power that sent his bark up against the 
storm with remarkable speed, and before long he 
reached the sumptuous palaces which flank the 
canal. As he drew near the bridges, he discovered 
that there was a great commotion near the palace 
of Lord Vivaldi, that the gondolas were being put 
off in all directions, while hundreds of torches sent 
their lurid glow down the canal. 

“ Halloo !” shouted the boatman, as a number of 
the gondolas neared him. “ Do you seek the Lady 
Isidora ?’ 

“ Yes, yes,” came from a hundred voices. 

“ Back, then, back, and don’t block up the way, 
for I have her here.”. 

In a moment the gondoliers pulled their boats 
out of the way, and with a dozen strokes of his oars, 
the stranger shot his craft up to the staircase which 
led to the palace of Francis Vivaldi, and throwing 
the bow -fast to those on shore, he raised the insensi- 
ble form of Isidora in his arms. 

“ Tell me, sir, for God’s sake, tell me is my child 
alive ?” cried an old man, who stood trembling upon 
the steps. 

“Yes, Vivaldi,” answered the stranger; “her 
heart still beats.” 

“Thank God for that,” murmured the old noble, 


18 


THE BRAVO OF VENICE. 


as he received the form of his daughter in his arms 
and imprinted a kiss upon her cold brow. 

“Let some give their help here, Vivaldi,” con- 
tinued the powerful boatman, “for here are two 
more who deserve your attention.” 

In a few moments the servant girl and Alberte 
Lioni were removed to the house, and all the atten- 
tion which the best of skill could suggest bestowed 
upon them. Before long they all showed signs of 
life ; but alas, for Alberte ! When he opened his 
eyes, it was only with the wild stare of feverish de- 
lirium. 

“But yourself, sir, what can I do for you ?” asked 
the Lord Vivaldi, as the stranger closed his tale of 
the noble manner in which the youth had saved the 
Lady Isidora and her maid. “ Had it not been for 
you they must all have been lost, and the noble 
youth would have fallen a sacrifice to his own mag- 
nanimity.” 

“I wish for nothing further than that you will 
remember the deed, and when*next you hear my 
dreaded name, you will know that one kind act, at 
least, rests upon my shoulders.” 

“But tell me who you are,” uttered the noble, as 
he instinctively drew back a pace from his strange 
companion. 

“ I am one who, should the spies of the Ten see 
you in conversation with me, mighf bring trouble 
upon your head.” 

“You are not — no that cannot be ; for you would 
never have dared to enter the house of the chief of 
the Criminal Tribunal. ” 

“I am Marco Martelino,” returned the stranger, 


THE BRAVO OP VENICE. 


19 


in a deep voice ; “ and I dare go any where it pleases 
me.” 

You, the Bravo of Venice ? He who is mixed 
up in every plot that has been discovered for years ? 
Who seems to sin on with perfect impunity, slipping 
through the fingers of justice at every turn, as 
though you possessed the power of rendering 
yourself invisible % He who seems to be at 
the very foundation of every wicked deed in 
Venice ?” 

“Well,” calmly replied the bravo, as the old 
noble drew tremblingly back, “why might I not 
as well bear that name as to have its stigma fixed 
upon some one else. You tremble, sir ; but look ye, 
Vivaldi, when you cast your eyes around your sen- 
ate chamber to-morrow, thou shalt see more than 
one noble sitting there who shall tremble before 
the nod of Marco Martelino. You say I have 
plotted. Aye, I have plotted, and I will plot again ; 
for there are those in Venice whom I would see 
removed from power ; their presence here suits me 
not ; and you, sir, would you rest in peace, attempt 
not to thwart me ; for I tell thee, Francis Vivaldi, 
senator and chief though you be, that should you 
step between me and my desigiis, your life is not 
worth a beggar’s mite. You wall set spies upon my 
track in vain ; for even your boasted Niccoli, who 
has seized upon every one else whom he has sought, 
has hunted after me to no purpose. At all the 
casinos in Venice he has his hundreds of spies, but 
they dare not betray me ; or if they would, they 
cannot. At every ridotto and masquerade, your 
chief spy has his emissaries ; but I go in and come 


so 


THE BKAVO OF VENICE. 


out when I please ; aye, and I plot there, too, if it 
suits me. Dost thou comprehend me, Vivaldi 1 ” 

The old man made no answer, but he gazed upon 
the wonderful man before him with silent awe : nor 
could he repress a feeling somewhat akin to admir- 
ation as he witnessed the proud bearing of the 
bravo ; yet he was the man whom Venice most 
feared ; and though he stood now in his own house, 
within his very hall of state, the Senator Vivaldi . 
thought not of attempting his capture. He trem- 
bled before his dark presence. 

“ Tell me,” continued Martelino, as he saw that 
his companion did not speak, “can the laws of 
Venice make that which is absolutely wrong to be 
by any means right ?” 

“Of course not,” replied Vivaldi, who thought 
he saw in the manner of the bravo a disposition to 
reveal some portion of his designs. 

“Then tell me how our senators shall be cor- 
rected when they do wrong V 

“They are amenable to the Council of Ten,” 
replied the noble. 

“Aye, so is the doge himself, and so is every 
one,” said Martelino, while a peculiar fire flashed 
from his eyes. “But when your Ten do wrong, 
and your senate do wrong, and your inquisitors do 
wrong, what may we do then jj From them there 
is no appeal. Wherever your Council of Ten sets 
its seal, there it must stay, and no power in Venice 
can remove it.” 

“If the senate do that which ought not to be 
done, and continue in the pursuance of the wrong, 
then the people must amend it.” 


THE BRAVO OF VENICE. 


21 


“ Ah, beware, Vivaldi ; that smells of treason. ” 

Vivaldi stared at this remark, and as he caught 
the keen eyes of the bravo fixed upon him, a 
strange feeling of uneasiness crept over his soul. 
What it was, or from whence it sprung, he could 
not tell. 

“Now,” continued Martelino, “your councils 
have done wrong, and it must be made right. If 
the people protest, it is treason ; if you, or I, or 
any one else move among the people in this matter, 
we are traitors, and death must be the consequence. 
So you see how slight a thing may make a traitor 
in Venice.” 

Vivaldi was on the point of answering, when the 
bravo moved toward the door. The noble did not 
attempt to stop him, for something about his pres- 
ence seemed more like a vision of the past than a 
reality of the present ; and while he yet gazed, the 
spot where Marco Martelino had stood was vacant, 
and in a moment more he heard the splash of his 
oars in the water. 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE COUNCIL OF TEN. 

When Martelino left the house of Vivaldi, the 
storm had passed away, and the dark masses of 
clouds were breaking apart and rolling off, while 
the bright moon once more rode majestically in a 
clear track. The bravo pulled the boat to the spot 
from whence he had taken it, and then started back 
toward the city, keeping along by the most secluded 
ways, until he reached the palace of Marino Trivi- 
sano. Here he stopped, and after looking cau- 
tiously around to assure himself that no one watched 
his movements, he approached the stairs which led 
down to the canal, and entered the house by the 
passage from the water. He was but a few 
moments in finding the private apartments of Tri- 
visano, and when he did reach it, he found five 
Venetian nobles already collected there. 

“Ah, here comes the very man,” remarked Tri- 
visa no, as the bravo entered. 

Martelino gazed around with a keen glance upon 
those who were assembled, and then said : 

“Yes, I am the very man, and I trust I have 
come in season.” 

“Just in time,” replied Trivisano, “for our 
friend Castello has but just arrived.” 


THE COUNCIL OF TEN. 


•23 


“ Then let's to business at once,” said the bravo, 
“ for I have other matters to attend to to-night.” 

“ Other matters ?” repeated Castello, in an inter’- 
rogative tone. 

“Yes.” 

The party exchanged significant glances, and 
appeared somewhat troubled ; but Martelino quickly 
reassured them, by adding : 

“ I have got to set a watch upon that fellow, Nic- 
eoli, the chief of the Ten ; for he is on our track, 
and he must be removed.” 

“ But he does not suspect any of us, does he ?’ 
asked Trivisano, while a slight tremor shook his> 
frame. 

“ Oh, no ; he only suspects me, that’s all,” replied 
the bravo. “You are all safe enough, at least for 
the present.” 

“ If we are safe now,” remarked one by the name 
of Polani, “ then why may we not remain safe V 

“So you can, my masters,” answered Martelino, 
“ if you pursue the proper course ; but you must be 
aware that there is but little safety, at all events, 
in the business in which we are engaged. Niccoli 
has his emissaries out in all directions, and you 
will be fortunate if you escape him.” 

“Never fear for us, Martelino,” said Trivisano; 
“ but you must look well to yourself, for you, you 
are aware, are already suspected.” 

“Me suspected!” returned the bravo, with a 
quick flash of his eagle eye ; “I am known to be a 
conspirator. I have nothing to hide from the eyes 
of the council’s spies, unless, indeed, it be my con- 
nection with yourselves, and for your own sakes I 


*24 


THE COUNCIL OF TEN. 

shall keep that a secret. So, my masters, you need 
not be under apprehensions for me, nor need you 
fear for yourselves on my account.” 

For some time after Marfcelino ceased speaking, 
no one seemed inclined to break the silence ; but 
the nobles cast very furtive glances at each other, 
which seemed to indicate that some preliminary ar- 
rangements were expected before the main busi- 
ness was begun. At length all these glances were 
directed toward Trivisano, and feeling himself 
called upon to lead on, the old noble turned to Mar- 
telino, and remarked : 

“You will not think it strange, Marco, if we desire 
some pledge from you, before we trust you with 
more of our secrets. We do not even know who 
you are, nor from whence you came, nor have we 
the least assurance that you will not prove false and 
betray us after all.” 

“ And what assurance can I give you,?” asked 
the bravo, without betraying the least diffidence on 
account of the questioning of his intentions. “If I 
can make you easy by any assurance of mine, I will 
do so ; but as to who I am and from whence I came 
I am free to tell you that you will know no more 
than you do at present. You are upon the point of 
making arrangements for the overthrow of the Vene- 
tian government ; you would dethrone the doge, and 
put a King in his place. You would disrobe the 
councilors and take their power into your own 
hands, and you think that the aspiring, proud- 
blooded nobles will assist you as soon as the ball is 
in motion, if you can first remove the dreaded 
Council of Ten. Marino Trivisano would be King 


THE COUNCIL OF TEN. 25 

of Venice ! Ha, ha ! and what other secrets are 
there which you have among you 2” 

Trivisano trembled as Martelino so faithfully pic- 
tured their true designs, and the others felt less un- 
easy ; but Castello, who seemed more hardy than 
the others, even though his expectations were not 
so high, quickly answered : 

“ There are secrets, bravo, which you do not 
know, and which cloak the most important point of 
our business. You may understand our ulterior 
designs, but you know not the means by which, the 
places where, nor the time when we intend to carry 
them out ; and these are the secrets which we have 
thought proper to withhold until we receive some 
binding assurance that your lips shall never betray 
us.” 

“ Ha, ha, ha !” laughed Martelino, while a scorn- 
ful expression dwelt upon his countenance. “ You 
would keep these secrets, for fear I might betray 
you ! Do you suppose, my lords, that the Council 
of Ten cares for such secrets 2 Suppose that arch 
spy, Niccoli, should know that the patricians Trivi- 
sano, Dolfino, Polani, Masto and Castello, had con- 
ceived the design which rests between you ; what 
would he care for the means, the times, or the 
places 2 Ah, my masters, the breath of Marco Mar- 
telino even now holds the headsman's axe over your 
necks, and you had better beware how you trifle 
with his power. You have asked me to remove 
certain men from your path — men who must be re- 
moved before you can proceed with your designs. 
For certain sums of money I have agreed to do it, 
and I swear that it shall be done. All this work I 


26 


THE COUNCIL OF TEN. 


must take upon my own shoulders, and Venice must 
never know that her nobles are at the back of the 
dreaded bravo ; and you talk of my betraying you. 
If you fear, then you had better at once leave the 
path upon which you have entered ; for I tell ye, 
conscript fathers, that stout hearts will be necessary 
before you reach the goal. But for your own ease, 
I will bind myself by any oath you choose to pre- 
scribe, only let it be done quickly, for I have told 
you once that I have business elsewhere.” 

The conspirators evidently felt ill at ease beneath 
the quick, fiery glances of the bravo, and Trivisano 
quickly answered : 

“We want no oath, but you will not wonder that 
we ask you for a pledge of fidelity. We must trust 
you with our secrets, and we desire to feel that 
your interests are with us: for I assure you, that 
if we succeed, you shall hold an important post 
under government. ” 

“ Then,” replied Martelino, “I solemnly promise 
that not one word, look or action of mine shall tend 
to betray you, unless I first find that some of you 
have already betrayed me. Will that suit you ?” 

. All expressed themselves satisfied with his prom- 
ise, for they at once saw that the interests of all 
concerned were so intimately connected, that one 
could not well betray the others without at the 
same time laying himself liable to the penalty of 
treason ; and at a motion from Castello, Trivisano 
produced from his secret lockers a small roll of 
parchment. 

“ Here, my lords,” said the old noble, as he un- 
rolled the parchment, “is a complete list of all 


THE COUNCIL OF TEN. 


27 


upon whom we may venture to operate. Of sev- 
eral of them I am sure, but the greater part will 
have to be approached with caution. To you, Cas- 
tello, I give this list. You will at once recognize 
the names, as all their owners have seats in your 
department of the senate. To you, Dolfino, I give 
this list. Those whose names are there enrolled 
are all in the eastern lobby. Polani and Masto, to 
you I give the list of those whose places are with- 
out the senate, and you must divide the duty as 
you see fit. For myself, I have reserved the nobles 
who are immediately about the person of the doge. 
Now, I need not further impress you with the ne- 
cessity of caution, for you must all be aware of the 
dangerous ground upon which we stand.” 

Then turning to the bravo, who had been a 
silent spectator of the appointment of these duties, 
Trivisano continued : 

“ To you, Martelino, we give this list. There are 
only four names in it, but the men therein men- 
tioned must be out of the way as soon as possible, 
for they are in the way most essentially, and until 
they are removed, we cannot with safety proceed.” 

The bravo ran his eye over the four names upon 
the parchment, and then turning round upon those 
present, he said : 

“ Those shall be attended to ; but are there not 
others who stand in the way more than do those 
whose names are here ?” 

“Not at present,” replied Trivisano. “There are 
others who will come under your hand before long, 
but their time has not yet come. ” 


THE COUNCIL OF TEN. 


“And is this all with which you have to com- 
mission me to-night ?” 

“That is all,” answered the noble, “and we 
shall not meet again till one week from to-night, 
when we expect that each will have a clear and 
safe account to render.” 

Thus commenced a plot which was calculated by 
its originators to entirely overthrow the Venetian 
government — or rather, we might say, it was the 
second or third time that the same plot had been 
started ; for on one occasion, certainly Trivisano 
had commenced the same, but circumstances had 
obliged him to relinquish its prosecution ; but now 
the nobles had commenced on a more safe and sure 
beginning, and already their machinations assumed 
a fearful aspect for the peace and safety of the city. 
They had long known the daring and subtle char- 
acter of Martelino, and in him they had found a fit 
man to cope with the dreaded Niccoli, for until 
chance threw the bravo in their way, they had not 
dared to arouse the suspicious of the argus-eyed spy. 

“I tell you,” said Castello, “ Martelino is a fellow 
who may be trusted, if we only trust him. But if 
we betray the least sign of suspicion, you may rest 
assured that we shall make his enmity, and to do 
that at the present time would be dangerous to us 
all.” 

“Castello is right,” said Masto. “Did you not 
notice to-night how quickly his fire was aroused 
when we hinted at the bare possibility of his prov- 
ing traitorous '( We must place all confidence in the 
bravo, or at least we must endeavor to make him 
think we do.” 


THE COUNCIL OF TEN. 


29 


“ But yet we must watch him narrowly, * sug 
gested Trivisano, ■“ and that we can do without his 
noticing it, for he evidently feels but little sympathy 
with us further than gold is concerned.” 

It was past midnight when the nobles left the 
palace of Marino Trivisano, and pulling their short 
cloaks up over the lower part of their faces, they 
sought their own dwellings. 

It might have been half an hour, perhaps more, 
after Trivisano’s four associates had left his dwell- 
ing, that the old noble sat by his table, busily en- 
gaged in writing. Whatever may have been the 
character of the matter which he was transferring 
from his plotting brain to the parchment, one thing 
is certain — it could not have been a work of honest 
intentions ; for at the least noise from without he 
would start from his study, and instinctively lay his 
hand on the written page before him. 

At length he leaned back from his work, seeming 
to study what next should be written, and while he 
yet gazed vacantly upon the . characters already 
traced, he was startled by feeling a heavy hand 
laid upon his shoulder. 

Quick as thought he dashed the parchment into 
his bosom, and leaped to his feet. Had the eyes of 
the old patrician rested upon the blood-stained ex- 
ecutioner and his ’own death warrant, he could not 
have been more terror-stricken than he was when 
they rested upon Niccoli, the Spy of the Ten. 

There was but one door to the apartment, and the 
key remained upon the inside of the lock, nor had it 
been turned. 

“You seem to be somewhat startled, my lord,*’ 


THE COUNCIL OF TEN. 


30 

quietly remarked Niccoli, as something half-way be- 
tween a smile and a sneer curled upon his lip. 
‘ * Perhaps you were not prepared for so unceremoni- 
ous a visit.” 

“ I was certainly not prepared for the intrusion 
of any one upon my private affairs, especially when 
my doors were locked,” replied Trivisano, still trem- 
bling with doubt and fear as to the object of this 
strange visit. 

“ Doors, my Lord Marino, are' something which 
I seldom trouble when my business is urgent,” an- 
swered Niccoli, as he bent a peculiar look upon the 
old man. 

For the first time a fearful thought flashed across 
the patrician’s mind. He knew that the spy must 
have entered by some secret passage unknown to 
himself, and perhaps the whole conversation be- 
tween the conspirators had been overheard by him. 
This thought for a moment almost took away his 
power of utterance, and settling back into his seat 
he gazed vacantly upon his unwelcome visitor. 

The plan of espionage by which nearly all the pa- 
trician dwellings contained secret passages, known 
only to the council and their spies, was not then 
near so general as it has been in later years , but 
the time has been when not a noble or an officer of 
the government knew by what means the emissaries 
of the Ten could enter and leave their dwellings at 
pleasure. 

“ You seem ill, my lord, and I assure you I should 
not have intruded upon your privacy had not I 
been sent by the council. ” 


TEE COUNCIL OE TEN. 


31 


“ And have the council been in session V quickly 
asked Trivisano. 

“ Yes. I left but half an hour since.” 

The patrician’s fears vanished in a moment, and 
so sudden was the change in the balance, that his 
feelings were as much elated as they had been be- 
fore depressed, and with considerable vivacity, be 
asked : 

“ And have they business with me ?” 

“ They had business, but they have deputed it to 
me. By to-morrow’s dawn I must be on my way 
to Padua, and it is necessary that you should have 
your instructions from me, or else I should have 
chosen another time to visit you. Now listen: 
There is, evidently, a plot on foot in Venice against 
the government ; how far it has gone, or how many 
are concerned in it is more than we can ascertain. 
Now, you are looked upon by the council as one of 
the most experienced men in the senate, as well as 
one of the most loyal, and to you they desire to 
entrust a commission, authorizing you, for the pres- 
ent, to exercise espionage over such persons as you 
may think proper. The only man against whom we 
have any grounds for suspicions is Marco Marte- 
lino ; but he is, evidently, only a tool in the hands 
of others ; and a most dangerous one he is, too, for 
he makes no secret of his intention to produce a 
radical change in the government — and yet we can- 
not get hold of him. He asserts that he is aione in 
the work ; but we have reason to fear that some of 
the nobles are setting him on ; and to you, my Lord , 
Marino, the council desire to give the charge of 
ascertaining the truth. Will you accept the duty ?” 


S'2 THE COUNCIL OF. TEN. 

“With pleasure,” quickly answered Trivi- 
sano. 

There was more show of readiness in the answer 
than the noble had intended ; but the duty was one 
so peculiarly adapted to aid him toward the con- 
summation of his own ends, that he could not avoid 
manifesting a slight degree of the satisfaction which 
he felt, and as Niccoli seemed to take no notice of 
his manner, he thought it had not been noticed, so 
he asked : 

“ When shall I commence ?” 

“ On the morrow.” 

“ And can you give me no nam»»s of those whom 
you have reason to suspect.” 

“ No,” answered the spy with a slight smile. “If 
we suspected any, we should want none of your 
assistance in condemning them. It is from the very 
lack of suspicion that we need your assist- 
ance.” 

“ And suppose I should suspect some one ?” 

“Then watch till your suspicions are well 
grounded, and then report to the council.” 

“That I will do,” returned the noble; “but I 
may turn out a poor hand at the trade.” 

“ Never mind, my lord ; you can do your best at 
least. For all that Martelino has pretended to be 
alone in his plottings, still he has thrown out a 
hint that there be those in the senate who are to be 
feared. It is in that quarter that we would have 
you keep your eyes open.” 

Trivisano would have asked where and to whom 
the bravo had done this, but before he could frame 
the question so as not to betray too much of his 


THE COUNCIL OF TEN. 


S3 


anxiety, the spy had turned the key in the door, 
and in a moment more he took his leave. 

A curious servant had Niccoli secured in the per- 
son of Marino Trivisano ! At least, so thought the 
old patrician himself. 


CHAPTER V. 


THE FAIR VISITOR. 

On the sixth morning after the almost fatal dis- 
aster upon the canal, Alberte Lioni opened his eyes, 
with the light of reason to guide his vision, for the 
first time since he had been conveyed into the pal- 
ace of Lord Vivaldi. The fever had been compara- 
tively quick, for its seeds had been germinating in 
his system during a long period previous to the 
occurrence of the storm and exposure which had 
brought it to a crisis, but now that the delirium 
had passed, the malignant features of the disease 
also disappeared ; but still he felt weak and 
exhausted. As he tried to struggle through the 
cloud that hung over his memory, he found a blank 
there which presented nothing but the kaleidoscopic 
remnants of a bright dream. Back of that he could 
clearly remember the fearful storm, and the struggle 
he had undergone, then came the image of the sink- 
ing maiden, and his own efforts to save her. He 
remembered of having seized the floating drapery, 
and he thought he had drawn her from the lashing 
waves — but here all became dim and indistinct. He 
had not seen her features, but something had told 
him they were young and beautiful, and an agoniz- 
ing fear ran through his soul, as the thought flashed 
through his mind that he might not have saved her. 


THE FAIR VISITOR. 


i5 


As Alberte’s mind began to gather strength, he 
gazed around the apartment to see if he was in his 
own chamber ; but he was not so much astonished 
at finding himself in a strange place, as he was by 
the luxury and magnificence of all about him 
How much he might have wondered at the strange- 
ness of his situation it is impossible to tell, for hard- 
ly had he satisfied himself that he was not still 
dreaming, when the door cautiously opened and 
Lord Vivaldi entered. The old man saw at a glance 
the favorable change which had taken place, and 
approaching the bed, he said : 

“You are better, my young friend.” 

“ I am weak and faint,” returned Alberte, “ but I 
think I must have been much worse.” 

“ Indeed you have. For two or three days the 
physicians had serious doubts of your recovery.” 

“ For two or three days ?” repeated the youth 
with surprise. “ And have 1 been sick so long ?” 

“ This is the sixth day since you were brought 
hither,” replied Vivaldi; “but you are now out of 
danger, and by care you will soon be well. ” 

For several moments Alberte pressed his hand 
upon his brow, and he at length raised his eyes, and 
asked : 

“ Can you tell me if the girls are safe whom 1. 
would have rescued from the storm ?” 

“ They are, my noble youth, and a fathers grati- 
tude shall ever be yours.” 

“ And were they your daughters f ’ 

“ One of them was,” replied the old noble. “She 
is my only child, 'and you have preserved to me a 
jewel worth more' than life itself. But now that 




THE FAIR VISITOR. 


you are once more in your sound mind, I would ask 
your name ; for since you have been here you have 
avoided the question with a determination which no 
persuasion could shake ; and though on all other 
subjects you have been rambling and unguarded, 
still upon the subject of your family you have 
maintained the utmost reserve.” 

“My name,” answered Alberte, while a trembling 
hesitancy marked his manner ; “ is Alberte Lioni.” 

“ Does your family reside in Venice V 

The youth gazed for a moment into the face of 
his interlocutor, and then his eyes filled with tears. 
He was not weak-minded, nor was he covetous of 
sympathy ; but sickness had unstrung his nerves, 
and his mind ran back to the fate of his family 
name ; he could not restrain the overflow of a heart 
that held a large space for the sacred memory of a 
father. The old noble saw that the youth was too 
ill to bear such excitement as his question had oc- 
cassioned, and he said, kindly : 

“I did not mean to pry into your secrets, my 
young friend, nor would I utter a syllable that 
could pain you. Your physician will be here, before 
long, and until then you had better remain quiet ; 
so for the present I will leave you to repose.” 

“Stay one moment,” urged Alberte, as the noble 
was upon the point of turning away. “ May I not 
know under whose roof I now am V 

“You are in the palace of the patrician, Vivaldi.” 

“Francis Vivaldi V 

“Yes.” 

“ And are vou lie ?” <> 

“Yes.” 


THE FAIR VISITOR. 37 

“Was it Isidora Vivaldi whom I saved from a 
watery grave ?” asked Alberte, as he vainly endeav- 
ored to raise himself upon his pillow. 

“It was,” replied Vivaldi, much surprised at the 
strange agitation of the young man. “ Were you 
ever acquainted with her?” 

The old man bent a scrutinizing gaze upon A1 
berte as he asked the question, but he received no 
direct answer. The youth only murmured to him- 
self : 

“ Then ’twas a dream of boyhood that has been 
haunting me. Oh, that I could ” 

He did not finish the sentence, for he caught the 
inquiring gaze of Vivaldi fixed so earnestly upon 
him, that he immediately stopped his wondering 
thoughts, and returning the look of the host, he 
added : 

“You may be surprised, sir, at my strange be- 
havior, but you may yet have it all explained ; and 
in the meantime accept my assurance that in me 
your roof covers one who never did aught to tarnish 
the honor of his manhood.” 

“ I believe you,” quickly answered the old noble, 
and once more urging upon his charge the necessity 
of remaining as quiet as possible, he left the apart- 
ment. 

When the physician came, he made no hesitation 
in pronouncing his patient out of danger, and after 
giving directions for the administering of some slight 
restorative, he left, with the assurance that Alberte 
would need nothing but rest and quiet to reinstate 
him to his former health. 

On the second morning after the call of the dor- 


38 


THE FAIR VISITOR. 


tor, Alberte was able to sit up in his chair, and in 
about an hour after he had donned his dressing 
gown, and while he was busily engaged in poring 
over an old manuscript, which lay upon the table at 
his side, he was aroused by the sound of a light foot- 
fall in the upper hall, and shortly after he heard^a 
light rap at his door. He bade whoever might be 
there to enter, and the next moment his eyes rested 
upon the form of her who had been the object of 
his delirium-caused visions. The heart of Alberte 
Lioni leaped wildly in his bosom as the bright form 
approached him, and with a strong effort he tried 
to rise to his feet, but a tiny hand held him 
down. 

“Not too fast,” said the newcomer, in a voice so 
sweet and soft that it sounded to the invalid like the 
breathing of an angel ; “I fear you are too weak to 
extend, so much courtesy to visitors. 1 

A kind smile rested upon her lips as she spoke, 
and beneath its encouraging influence the tongue of 
Alberte found its power, for he extended his hand, 
and said : 

“ I am sure I cannot be mistaken; you are she 
whom I saw sinking beneath the waters of the 
canal ?” 

‘ ‘ And she whom you saved from a terrible death. ” 
added the girl, as she looked with gratitude into the 
face of her preserver. 

“Then you are the daughter of the Lord Vi- 
valdi r 

“ Yes ; his only child,” returned she ; and -then 
gazing for a moment upon the pale countenance of 
Alberte, she added : 


THE PAIR VISITOR. 


39 


“ And my father tells me that your name is Al- 
berte Lioni.” 

There was a peculiarity in the expression of Isi- 
dora, as she uttered this, that savored something of 
an interrogation, and its manner called up a strange 
feeling in the young man’s bosom. The fair girl 
noticed the appearance of her companion, and per- 
haps attributing it to natural reserve, she continued 
in a frank and open manner : 

“ Perhaps I feel more acquainted than you do, 
for this is the first ‘time that you have seen me to 
recognize me, while I have been a constant visitor 
at your bedside since your sickness:” 

“ Pardon me, lady,” quickly replied Alberts, “ if 
I have appeared disconcerted, but your image calls 
up such pleasant dreams that I cannot force my 
mind from the bright fields of the past.” 

“ That is, perhaps, the result of your fevered im- 
agination during your sickness. The more pointed 
circumstances of your delirium, I suppose, appear 
like dreams to you now.” 

Whether Isidora said this for the sake of hiding 
some deep feeling, that had been called into exist- 
ence by the remark of her companion, or whether 
she said it for the purpose of conversation, we can- 
not say; but one thing is certain, the manner of its 
delivery plainly indicated that her thoughts were 
not her words. This conclusion seemed also to come 
to the mind of Alberts, but he appeared to take lit- 
tle notice of it, for he was too deeply buried in his 
own reflections, and raising his large, lustrous eyes 
to the face of the gii‘1 before him, he replied : 

“No. lady, the dreams of which I speak are far- 


40 


THE FAIR VISITOR. 


ther back than that. Your image is indeed con- 
nected with the visions of my late wandering, hut 
’tis the bright page of happier days upon which my 
mind rests ; but, alas ! For me all that remains is 
the privilege of treasuring up the memories of joys 
which can never be mine again. I can dwell upon 
the bright hopes of the past, but the future contains 
no happy chance for their fulfilment.” 

Isidora Vivaldi felt a strange flutter at her heart 
as those large, bright eyes rested upon her, and her 
own mind seemed struggling to drink in some vis- 
ion wherein she had seen them before ; but memory 
refused to reveal the secret, and with a sensation of 
strange doubts, she asked : 

“Did you ever know me before that dreadful 
night on which I came so near my death 2” 

“ I did not know you then, fair lady, for if I had, 
these hands would never have refused their office 
till you had been safe.” 

“Nor did they,” quickly replied Isidora, “for the 
man who took us to the landing stairs says you had 
safely secured us from harm.” 

“Well,” answered Alberte, “let that be as it 
may, I did the duty which every man owes to his 
fellows, and I am happy to know that my efforts 
were blessed with success. But I did not answer 
your question. I did know a bright-eyed, laughing 
girl, when I was a boy, and I called her Isidora.” 

“ And she called you — ” 

“Her father taught her to call me her little hus- 
band.” 

Isidora Vivaldi gazed intently into the face of her 
companion, but there was no trembling in her man- 


THE FAIR VISITOR. 


41 


ner. Her heart, even, almost ceased to beat, as the 
misty veil fluttered for a moment in the air of 
doubt, and then slowly arose from the picture she 
had been struggling to call up. She laid her hand 
on the shoulder of Alberte, and said : 

“ Your name was Marcello ?” 

“You have spoken rightly,” replied Alberte, as 
he gazed earnestly into the face of his fair compan- 
ion, to see what effect the revelation might have. 

The young man had spoken differently from 
what he would have done under the circumstances, 
but his sickness had spread a kind of childish confi- 
dence over his disposition, and he realized not that 
his plain and summary rehearsal of the past was 
out of character under the pleasant situation of the 
lady and himself ; but, be that as it may, his bosom 
swelled with a peculiar and strange emotion, as he 
found that the eyes of the gentle Isidora were 
beaming with the sunlight of a love which could not 
be hidden by her artless nature, and he almost felt 
in reality that the days of childhood were once more 
brimming up in his cup of life. Already had he 
framed his mind for a realization of those joys once 
more, when the door of the apartment opened, and 
the Lord Vivaldi entered. 

Isidora cast one look upon Alberte Lioni, but 
with all his powers of mind, he could not analyze 
it. There was much of affection in it, but there 
was also so much of some other feeling, that he 
remained in a doubt -as dark as the cloud which he 
had sought to remove — and before he could seek 
for an explanation in another glance of those bright 
eyes, she had left the room. 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE OLD MAN’S AVOWAL. 

For some time after Isidora left the room, the old 
noble gazed in silence upon the young invalid. 
There was in his gaze a strange mixture of admira- 
tion and something very nearly akin to misgiving, 
and a slight tremulousness marked his voice, as he 
said : 

“My young friend, I have seen enough of the 
world to understand that straightforward frankness 
is always the best principle of action, more espec- 
ially when we have honorable men to deal with ; 
and as I look upon you as one of that class I shall 
expect that there will be no reserve in our conver- 
sation at this time. ” 

“I never yet deceived any one,” replied Alberte, 
while his pale cheek was flushed with an unwonted 
glow, “ arid I trust that I shall not be suspected of 
doing it now.” 

“I did not suspect it,” answered Vivaldi, “but 
I merely mentioned the subject because the matter 
I am about to broach is a recalling of old affairs, 
and perhaps you might think that a silent reserve 
would be justifiable. ” % • 

“ My Lord Vivaldi,” said the youth, as he bent 
his attention toward the countenance of his host, 
“ whatever you have to say may be said at once ; 


THE OLD MAN’S AVOWAL. 


43 


end I know of nothing in the past or present that I 
should blush to own. I do not hesitate to tell you, 
however, that there are circumstances which I 
would not make a subject of general remark ; but 
to you, sir, I know not that I shall feel in the least 
reserved upon any of them. ” 

“Then,” returned the old patrician, “I would 
first ask, are you not the son of Giovanni Mar- 
cello f ’ 

“ Such was my father’s name,” returned Alberte, 
without hesitation. 

“The old senator who was banished for trea- 
son ?” 

“So reads the record upon the archives of the 
Council of Ten,” replied the young man, while the 
nervous twitching of the muscles about the corners 
of the mouth betrayed an intense feeling ; “ but 
God knows that the Ten judged him wrongfully, 
and when my poor father died, Venice lost one of 
her fin nest friends. ” 

“What you say may be true,” replied Vivaldi, 
“and I may even assure you that I have ever had 
doubts with regard to the Lord Marcello’s guilt ; but 
you must be aware that by action of the council, 
the name of your family is stricken from the patri- 
cian list in the senate.” 

“You are perfectly right, sir,” returned Alberte, 
with a tone of deep irony. ‘ ‘ The council took 
away all they could — the mere bauble of a name ; 
but the true nobility of a nature — that principle 
which elevates man abo ,r e his fellows — is an ema- 
nation from the soul of Deity, and all the councils 
in the world cannot take it from the man who is so 


44 THIS OLD MAN’S AVOWAL. 

fortunate as to possess it. I will not ask for a rank 
in Venice which is held by a tenure so slight that 
the falsehoods of plotting men could wrest it from 
me. My father looks down upon the city for 
which he would have readily given up his life, and 
sees with indifference the paltry baubles for which 
men shed each other’s blood. He has his home now 
in that fair land where neither ducal bonnet nor the 
regal diadem can cover a mote of sin ; and I trust 
that his memory may not be connected with aught 
that is unpleasant for the mind of his son to dwell 
upon.” 

“ Fear not that I shall do that,” replied Vivaldi, 
who could not but admire the noble and indepen- 
dent spirit of the youth. “When you were first 
brought to my dwelling, I thought I recognized in 
your countenance the likeness of some one with 
whom I had been acquainted, but I could not ar- 
rive at any definite conclusion, and your name tend- 
ed still more to blind me ; but as soon as you had 
recovered, I at once hit upon the truth. I knew 
that you were the son of my unfortunate friend, 
and I immediately came to the conclusion to speak 
to you upon a subject which has much interest for 
all concerned. You probably remember some of 
the peculiar relations which existed between our 
families before the death of your father.” 

“Some of them,” returned Alberte, while a light 
shade of melancholy passed over his countenance, 
“ I can never forget ; but they are only as the land- 
marks of the past, from which I date a new exist- 
ence — an existence which must take its weal or woe 
from the moral tone it bears. I know too we'd. 


THE OLD MAN’S AVOWAL. 


45 


that henceforth I have no rank or station on which 
to found my hopes. I am aware, my Lord Vivaldi, 
of what you would say, and I know, too, that the 
subject is one of a delicate nature ; but I assure 
you that you need not fear. Now that I have 
naught but the true manhood of an honest and up- 
right soul for my portion, I know that I may not 
aspire to those favors which are reserved for the 
lot of the patrician.” 

Vivaldi felt ill at ease beneath the cutting words 
of his young companion. There was no sarcasm, 
nor was there much of irony in them ; but still he 
felt their force from their truthfulness, and he 
knew, too, that he was forced to acknowledge the 
nobility of men who had not half the merit that 
was possessed by young Lioni. Years before, when 
Giovanni Marcello held a seat in the senate, by the 
side of himself, Francis Vivaldi had looked upon 
him as his truest and noblest friend, and in their 
special capacity the two nobles were also firm and 
tried friends. While the son of the s one and the 
daughter of the other were still children, they had 
been affianced by their fond fathers, and the youth- 
ful Alberto had loved the gentle being, who was 
thus destined for him, with a love as deep as could 
have been felt by the more experienced in years. 
The fair Isidora, too, had given the whole of her 
young heart where her father had so confidently 
given her hand, and before her eighth summer had 
shed its flowers about her path, she had learned to 
look upon her childish playmate as her future hus- 
band. Thus stood matters between the families of 
Marcello and Vivaldi, when the former was accused 


THE OLD MAN’S AVOWAL. 


4t> 

of participating in a plot for the subversion of the 
government, and, by the direct evidence of several 
of the nobles, condemned to banishment. 

Had Vivaldi, when- his former friend was first 
driven from his native city, let all matters drop 
among things that were past and gone, which re- 
lated to their previous connection, all might have 
been well. But instead of pursuing such a course, 
he sought, by argument and entreaty, to' induce his 
daughter to forget Marcello, seeming not to remem- 
ber that such was the way to fix his image more viv- 
idly in her young mind. Years rolled on, and still 
the heart of Isidora was with him who in her child- 
hood’s hours had won her soul’s best and purest 
love. The more her -father tried to urge her the 
more closely he entwined the love he would have 
eradicated ; and more than once had he experi- 
enced the mortification of seeing her refuse the 
hand of some of the noblest lords of Venice. 

When Alberte first returned to his native city, 
after his father had obtained permission for him 
to return to his studies, he had most studiously 
avoided all those friends with whom, in times past, 
they had been intimate, and as his family name 
had been taken from him, hardly any of the nobles 
knew him. The living love of Isidora Vivaldi, how- 
ever, had seen through the veil, and when she first 
beheld the delirium- wrought countenance of her 
preserver, though she did not recognize the play- 
mate of her childhood, still her heart sent forth an 
instinctive feeling of affection, which, had she 
sought to explain, would have baffled all her power . 
and when she first learned from the lips of the 


THE OLD MAN’S AVOWAL. 


47 

youth the truth, she only heard what her soul had 
already felt. 

The Lord Vivaldi, from the moment he had seen 
Alberte after the return of his reason, had recogniz- 
ed the son of Marcello, and the father’s heart soon 
became alarmed for the safety of his daughter. He 
knew that Isidora still cherished the memory of her 
early love, and he had determined to seek the present 
interview for the purpose of guarding against the 
evil he so much feared ; but even now he almost 
wished that the laws of Venice did not forbid the 
marriage of patricianS*with the lower ranks, for 
there was so much to love and respect in the char- 
acter of the youth, that his heart not only felt for 
him, but his judgment told him that nowhere could 
his daughter find a better husband. But the laws 
of the patrician rank were imperative, and he had. 
no alternative ; so he said as the youth closed his 
last remark : 

“You may have occasion to speak bitterly of 
those circumstances which have so affected you, 
but still you cannot blame me for the course I am 
obliged to pursue. I have not supposed you would 
take the least advantage of the obligations we are 
under to you, to do aught that could do me harm ; 
but I know the human heart too well not to be 
aware that there are circumstances over which the 
judgment holds no control, and among them is that 
of love. You know that the time was when you 
were led to look upon my daughter as your promis- 
ed bride, and I knew not but that your heart might 
still bear the same feeling toward her. If such 
were tho ease, I feared that by leaving you both to 


48 THE OLD MAN’S AVOWAL. 

follow your .own inclinations, you might be led to a 
state where much unhappiness would be the only 
result, for you well know that I must bow to the 
laws of the land, however much my own feelings 
might dictate to the contrary. You may think I 
have spoken needlessly upon this subject, and per- 
haps I have ; but a word in time can do no 
harm.” 

“I appreciate your motives,” said Alberte, “nor 
do I take the least offence ; but I will not hide from 
you the fact that I have ever loved your daughter 
with the whole fervor of my soul, nor can my heart 
ever be given to another ; but so long as I remain a 
guest beneath your roof, I will not broach to her 
the subject.” 

“ I thank you, my young friend, for your frank- 
ness, and I assure you that a heavy load is removed 
from my bosom ; for your position is one so pecu- 
liar that I feared you might turn a deaf ear to my 
entreaties.” 

“Methinks, sir,” replied Alberte, “that you 
should give yourself little uneasiness on your 
daughter’ account, for she would not surely bestow 
her love upon a poor trampled youth.” 

“ She may never have ceased to feel ” 

Vivaldi did not close the sentence, for as he 
caught the expression of the young man’s counte- 
nance, he was startled by the unwonted fire that 
burned in his large, dark eyes, and he at once saw 
that he might have said too much ; but he had no 
time for reflection, for Alberte quickly said : 

“Tell me, sir, tell me truly; I swear by the 
memory of my sainted father that I will never take 


THE OLD MAN’S AVOWAL. 


49 


advantage of your answer. Does your daughter 
still love me ?” 

There was a peculiar wildness in the youth’s 
manner, and as he closed he grasped the old man 
by the shoulder, and waited anxiously for an an- 
swer. 

Vivaldi knew not how to reply. He knew that 
if he told the truth he should tell the youth that 
Isidora loved him most fervently, that for years she 
almost lived upon the memory of her early affec- 
tion, but he feared to tell this ; he feared to inspire 
the heart of young Lioni with so baseless a hope. 

“You said, my Lord Vivaldi,” urged Alberte, as 
he noticed the old man’s hesitancy, “that you 
hoped we should both be frank and straightforward, 
and I trust that you will be so now. Your manner 
convinces me that Isidora has not forgotten me, 
and if you will tell me the whole truth, I shall have 
no questions to ask the lady, you may rest assured 
of that.” 

“ Well,” said the old noble, while his voice trem- 
bled with ill-defined fear, “I will tell you the truth. 
My daughter loves you too well for her own happi- 
ness, and for this reason I have sought this inter- 
view. From the moment when your father was 
first banished from Venice, she has blindly cherish- 
ed the love with which I once permitted her to be- 
come possessed, and even now I fear that she has 
recognized in you the object of her early love, and 
if such is the case, the circumstance of your having 
saved her life will by no means be calculated to 
quench the flame. ” 

“She has recognized me, sir,” replied Alberte, as 


50 


THE OLD MAN’S AVOWAL. 


he sank back into his chair, and placed his hands 
over his face. For a few moments he sat thus, and 
at length, as he brushed away a tear that started to 
his eye, he rose from his chair, supported by a sud- 
den and strange strength, and laying his hand upon 
the old man’s shoulder, he continued almost in a 
whisper, but with a most intense earnestness: 
“ Once more, sir, I ask your answer. Tell me, not 
hastily, but calmly and considerately, were I once 
njore restored to the estate in which I was born, 
were I but clothed in the nobility which my patri- 
cian father lost, were I but permitted by the coun- 
cil and senate once more to wear the name of Mar- 
cello, might I have your permission to wed Lady 
Isidora V 

“Be calm, I pray you,” urged Vivaldi, as he' 
forced the youth back in his chair. “ Your excite- 
ment will certainly bring you back to your bed 
again.” 

“Tell me, sir,” still persisted Alberte, “if you 
would quell the fire of a heart which is racking 
almost to bursting if, under the circumstances I 
have pictured, you would grant that I might win 
and wear the jewel you so much prize ?” 

“Certainly, my young friend,” replied the old 
noble, as his countenance underwent a variety of 
changes ; “if you could honestly obtain the rank 
of which you speak, I should have no objection to 
your suit, for I have already assured you that 1, 
had the most implicit confidence in your honor as a 
man ; and only the laws, over which I have no 
control, foi’ce me to the position I have taken. But 
the picture you have drawn, I fear, can never be 


THE OLD MAN’S AVOWAL. 51 

realized, for the council seldom reconsider their 
actions.” 

“ But I know that my father was innocent ; and 
suppose that I could prove it to the full satisfaction 
of the council, would they not reverse their decision 
with regard to his estates ?” 

“ Of course they would.” 

“ And may not a just God place in my hands the 
means of proving this, so important a truth?” 

“You can certainly try,” replied Vivaldi in a 
desponding tone ; “but I much fear that you will 
never succeed. The Lord Marcello had a fair and 
impartial trial.” 

“Fair and impartial trial, did you say?” inter- 
rupted Alberte. “And can the trial which results 
in the open disgrace and ruin of one of the noblest 
men in Venice, even though he he innocent of even 
a thought against his government, be fair and im- 
partial ?” 

“ The evidence, my young friend, was too strong 
for a doubt, and hence the decision of the council 
was in accordance with it. I can see nothing 
which makes the action in the case at all un- 
fair.” 

“Tell me, my lord,” said young Lioni, while his 
eye beamed with the fire of a conscious right, “ do 
you believe the evidence that was given against my 
father ? Do you not know that much of that evi- 
dence was false, basely false ?” 

“You ask me now,” returned Vivaldi, who was, 
evidently, much embarrassed by the close corner in 
which he was placed, ‘ ' to impeach some of the 
nobles of Venice.” 


52 


THE OLD MAN’S AVOWAL. 


“ But how can an expression of your opinion be 
an impeachment ?” 

“You are probably aware that I am one of the 
state inquisitors, and that my authority, combined 
with that of my two associates, is superior even to 
the doge himself, and hence such an accusation on 
my part would be a certain impeachment.” 

“ But I assure you, sir, that whatever answer you 
may make, it shall never go from my lips ; but I 
would like to know whether there be not some' 
among my father’s old friends who believe him in- 
nocent of the crime for which he suffered.” 

“ Well,” answered Vivaldi at length, “ I dc^ believe 
that Giovanni Marcello was innocent of any crime, 
although at the time he was condemned, I believed 
most of the evidence against him. You were too 
young to understand anything that occurred; but in 
your father’s private cabinet, within a drawer — to the 
lock of which only himself possessed a key — was 
found a written plan of the whole plot ; but at the 
present time I have reason to believe that he knew 
not how it came there.” 

“I thank you, sir, most sincerely, for this avow- 
al of your belief, and if there be others who believe 
the same, I may yet make out the evidence I need, 
and may God enable me to do it !” 

“Amen!” fervently uttered Vivaldi ; and then 
gazing for a moment into the working countenance 
of the youth, he continued : 

“I must leave you now, for business calls me; 
bu± I trust you will bear in mind what I have said?' 

“Fear not, sir,” answered Alberte ; “you may 
trust to my honor.” 


THE OLD MAN’S AVOWAL. 53 

After warmly returning the affectionate grasp of 
his young friend, Lord Vivaldi left the room. 

Ah, Alberte Lioni, where now ai’e all thy dreams 
of nature’s nobility ? Where is now thy goal of 
an honorable happiness in the lower walks of life ? 
One side glance from your childhood’s queen, and the 
assurance that she loves you still, have set your heart 
upon the bauble of lordly rank ! On, then ! and 
learn to know how troublous is the path you have 
chosen. The love of the fair Isidora has lifted the 
clouds for the moment, but be assured that they will 
settle again, darker and more fearful than ever ! 


CHAPTER VII. 


MEETING OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 

The week which was to intervene before the sec- 
ond meeting of the conspirators slipped by, and the 
appointed time found five leading nobles at the pa- 
lazzo of Trivisano, nor had they waited long before 
Martelino also made his appearance. The bravo 
came in with a firm step, and the dark business in 
which they were engaged seemed to have no terror 
for him ; for while the others cast trembling, fur- 
tive glances about them at every breath which 
swept through the lattice, he was cool and self-pos 
sessed. Marco Martelino — terrible was his name — 
with a heavy price set upon his head, and proscribed 
throughout the commonwealth, knew not what it 
was to fear. 

“Well, my masters,” exclaimed he, as he doffed 
the heavy slouched hat, “ how goes the plot ?” 

“Right well,” returned Trivisano, rubbing his 
hands in high glee. ‘ ‘ More of the nobles are open 
to rebellion than we anticipated.” 

A dark cloud passed over the bravo as he heard 
this, and quickly facing the conspiring patricians, he 
said : 

‘ ‘ And have you so soon bruited your plans 
abroad ? How know ye that many of the nobles 
are open for rebellion, Trivisano ?” 


MEETING OF THE CONSPIRATORS. Bo 

“How now, thou ‘* 

“ Hold, Castello P exclaimed Masto, as the for- 
mer was framing an angry retort to the bravo. 

“ And what shall I hold for V returned the hot- 
headed Castello. “ Shall we be brow-beaten by yon 
swarthy bravo V 

“ Methinks, my good lords and masters,” said 
Martelino, while his towering form added a strange 
power to the command of his flashing eyes, “that 
you had better all hold. But a week has yet passed 
and still you have stirred extensively among the 
senators. Do you think the nobles of Venice are all 
fools, that you can toy with them as you would with 
children ? To how many, Trivisanoj have you yet 
spoken V’ 

“There are fifteen who have been sounded.” 

‘ ‘ And you are sure of how many ?” 

“Well,” returned the noble, slightly trembling 
beneath the steady gaze of the bravo, “we are not 
sure of any, yet.” 

“ So, my lords, you have given your deep-laid 
plans to the fickle winds of suspicion, at least, and 
yet you have not gained a soldi. I tell you once 
more that the eyes of the spy are open, and you 
know not who maj be his emissaries. Perhaps 
some of those very men whom you number upon 
your list are among his tools.” 

“ Ha, ha, ha, Martelino,” laughed Trivisano, “you 
are out there ; for Niccoli has given to me the whole 
charge of sifting out this matter.” 

Here the old noble explained to the bravo the 
whole particulars of his interview with the spy of 
the Ten, and showed how, under such a commis- 


o6 MEETING* OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 

sion, he had been enabled to broach the subject 
without fear of detection ; for behind the cloak of 
his duty, he could easily hide his ulterior designs. 

“ That may alter the case some,” replied Mar- 
tel ino ; “ but still you must remember that I have 
the most to bear, and you owe it to me that no dan- 
ger comes from any misadventure of yours.” 

“Never fear for that,” returned Trivisano. “I 
have been cautious, and I find that many of the no- 
bles like not the Council of Ten. It has too much 
power over their liberties. ” 

“ What portion of their liberties ?” quietly asked 
the old bravo, as he bent a meaning look upon the 
old man. “ The nobles of Venice have certainly the 
widest range of any in the world. There lies the 
trouble. The Council of Ten even looks with a kind 
of approbation upon all the sins against morality of 
which the Venetian noble is guilty. No, my lords, 
the council is guilty in the very liberty it grants 
those of your own rank, and hence I war against its 
evils. Your patrician may be black as night with 
the stains of debauchery and moral degradation, 
and still no notice is taken of the sin; and such fools 
are the pleasure-seeking nobles, they see not that 
the council is answering its own ends in its course 
of reckless libertinism.” 

“You speak in riddles, Marco,” said Castello, who 
was struck with the peculiarities of these ideas. 
“Pray tell us, how can these small sins of nobility 
answer any ends of the council.” 

“I will tell you,” answered the bravo. “You 
know that the Council of Ten with the three state in- 
quisitors, are superior to all other powers in Venice. 


MEETING OP THE CONSPIRATORS- 


57 


Even the doge himself knows not what they do, nor 
what may be their intentions, and also the senate 
has no business with their transactions. The nobil- 
ity of Venice are all under their fearful power ; and 
the slightest breath of treason may take the patri- 
cian from the palace, or the doge from the ducal 
chair — and he may never know, even upon the scaf- 
fold, who have been his accusers. Now, such a 
power must necessarily depend upon the people for 
its existence ; and do you not see that in proportion 
as the nobility lose their popularity with the people, 
in the same proportion does that council which pro- 
tects the state from civil discord gain strength ; for 
the people have nothing to fear from the Council of 
Ten, while their rulers have everything. Thus, 
while a virtuous, humane and charitable nobility 
would be loved and respected by the masses, on the 
contrary, the dissolute, debauched and intemperate 
will find no sympathy with them ; and while the 
former will find protection from a hasty conviction, 
the latter would look in vain for aid. But, my mas- 
ters, though this in the abstract might work well 
for the state, still it has its evils and great ones, too ; 
for so confident have the council become in their 
power, that even the innocent man may suffer, and 
should his accusers refuse to appear, he may be be 
headed without having the privilege of facing 
them.” 

All saw the truth of Martelino’s statement, and 
for several moments .after he closed, a dead silence 
prevailed, which was at length broken by Trivisano, 
who said: 

“ There is much truth in what you say, and it be- 


m MEETING OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 

hooves us that we come not within the clutches of 
the council, for we might rest assured of but little 
sympathy. But now, what have you done toward 
the consummation of your plans ?” 

“ As yet, but little,” replied the bravo. “I have 
studied the best mode of operation, and before long 
I shall commence.” 

“ But Francis Vivaldi must be the first removed,” 
said Trivisano, while a slight shudder passed 
through his frame as he pronounced the name of 
the powerful nobleman. 

“And so he shall be,” returned Martelino, “as 
soon as the proper time comes. He may live two 
weeks yet, but he shall be out of the way before his 
presence can do any harm.” 

“Ah, another brat has turned up who may yet 
stand in our path,” said Castello. 

“ Another V asked the bravo, as a frown gath- 
ered upon his brow. “ And who is it V 

“ Oh, nothing — no one,” returned Lord Marino, 
while an agitation he could not suppress crept over 
him. “ Castello merely alluded to a circumstance 
which I mentioned to him this morning, but I have 
found myself entirely mistaken. The person to 
whom I alluded is not what I at first suspected.” 

Martelino may have looked as though he were 
satisfied with this explanation, but when, some 
hours later, he left the place, there was a bitter curl 
upon his lips, and could the conspirators have read 
his heart, they would have known he was far from 
being satisfied. 

“ You did wrong, Castello, in so carelessly making 
mention of that subject before the bravo,” said Triv- 


MEETING OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 


59 


feano, as soon as he was sure Martelino was out of 
hearing. 

“But I thought he was to do the work ?” 

“Why, no. The youth must be removed with- 
out the knowledge of the bravo, for his case is so 
connected with the old plot, that we should have to 
explain to Martelino the whole of our former con- 
spiracy, and then we would be wholly in his power. 
If the boy would but keep quiet, he might live, 
but the position he has now taken is dangerous, 
for the Lord Marcello was a great favorite with 
the people ; so much so, that the council did not 
dare to behead him, though the first sentence 
was to that effect ; and should his son now make a 
stir to prove his father’s innocence, he would find 
friends on every hand, and if I am not very much 
mistaken, old Vivaldi will aid him in the prosecu- 
tion of his design.” 

“ But how do you know that old Marcello’s son 
is really engaged in such work V asked Masto. 

“ Because he has said so, and Vivaldi so informed 
the one who told me of it ; and shpuld he succeed in 
his designs, it might bring the whole of us into 
immediate condemnation. The youth has passed 
under the name of Lioni, and but a short time since 
he saved the life of Vivaldi’s daughter, in conse- 
quence of which he will most assuredly receive the 
old man’s aid.” 

“ And is the youth still at the chief’s house V 

“ Yes,” returned Trivisano, “but he walked out 
to-day, and I doubt not that before long he will be 
able to put his gondola upon the canal.” 

“ How do you intend to finish him ?” asked Cas- 


60 MEETING OF i'HE GONBPIKATOKS. 

tello, as he began to realize the trouble that might 
ensue. 

“ I have the means at hand,” returned Trivisano, 
“and while the bravo finishes Vivaldi, leave the 
boy to me.” 

When the conspirators separated that night, a 
strong net was woven around the fate of Alberte 
Lioni. The hungry vulture was hovering over his 
path , 


CHAPTER VHI. 


THE YOUNG STRANGER. 

Strength had once more returned to our youthful 
hero, and he waited only for the full enjoyment of 
his health before he entered, heart and soul, upon 
the work he had laid out. Isidora had learned the 
whole truth, and her heart beat with a vivid hope 
as she looked forward to the time when Albert© 
would claim her hand. Hers was a heart that 
could hold no deceit,- and she frankly avowed the 
love she held for her young preserver, while with 
all her assurances of fidelity, she urged him on in 
the path he marked out. She knew there were 
lords in Venice who sought her hand, and she 
furthermore knew that to one of them her father 
had given hopes of obtaining her. This was Carolus 
Trivisano, the only son of the noble with whom the 
reader is already acquainted. Twice had she per- 
emptorily refused his suit, and still he sought by 
all possible means to win some mark of her esteem, 
nor could any coldness on her part drive him from 
her. At their last meeting young Trivisano had 
expressed himself in a manner ill calculated to 
beget any agreeable feelings in the bosom of the 
young lady ; and he had even thrown out some 
dark hints, which, had he sufficient power, might 
have created alarm in Isidora’s bosom. But, how- 


62 


THE YOUNG STRANGER. 


ever beautiful and honorable might have been the 
aspirants to the hand of Isidora Vivaldi, she could 
never have given to them her love, for her heart 
dwelt wholly in the atmosphere of the past, and 
from the recollections of childhood she brought the 
ideal of her affection. Now that ideal had become 
real. In Alberts she found the talismanic mirror 
from which her own love was reflected, and here 
her heart fluttered for a moment, like the troubled 
needle as it seeks its true point to the north, and 
then settled gently down to rest in its home. 

The sun had passed the meridian, and was gently 
sinking in its western track, when Alberte Lioni 
stepped down from the palazzo of the Lord Vivaldi, 
and entered a small gondola which lay moored at 
the foot of the steps. Having cast off the line 
which held the boat’s head, he dipped the light oars 
into the water, and started off down the canal. 
Once more the young man’s heart bounded with 
happy impulse as he found himself bounding over 
the sparkling water, and his nostrils opened to the 
fresh air as it came sweeping up from the Adriatic, 
as though they would have drunk in the freshness 
which had been so long denied them. The change 
from a sick chamber to the open canal was so 
agreeable to the youth’s senses, that he hardly real- 
ized the fact that even in the latter place it was 
necessary to use circumspection, for in his blind- 
ness of ecstatic pleasure he had come very near up 
setting several of his more staid and circumspect 
neighbors ; and it was not until he ran directly 
upon a gondola which was crossing ahead of him, 
that he began to realize the necessity of keeping 


THE YOUNG STRANGER. 


in mind the fact that there were others upon the 
canal besides himself. As he shot clear of the gon- 
dola against which he had so unceremoniously run, 
he turned to ask the pardon of whomever might be 
in it, but before he could do so it had been pulled 
out of hearing. He saw, however, that it contain- 
ed only an old gentleman and a youth of about his 
own age, and thinking no harm had been done, he 
set his oars once more in motion, determined to be 
more careful for the rest of the ride. 

Alberte Lioni did not notice the manoeuvre of the 
gondola which had attempted to cross his track, 
nor did he notice that the collision was the result 
of design on the part of the stranger, and more 
than all the rest, he did not know that that old 
gentleman was the Lord Trivisano ; but such was 
the fact. 

Alberte rowed on until his relaxing muscles 
began to indicate that he had gone as far as pru- 
dence would allow, when he turned the head of his 
boat toward home. He had not rowed more than 
half the distance back, when he saw the gondola 
approaching him from the opposite side of the 
canal, and as he slightly backed his oars to allow it 
to pass, its occupant, who was a young man, hailed 
him. 

“ Will you stop a moment asked the stranger, 
as he pulled up alongside. 

“Certainly,” returned Alberte, wondering what 
could be wanted. 

“ Is your name Lioni ?” 

“ It is.” 

; ' Alberte Lioni ?’ 


64 


THE YOUNG STRANGER. 


“Yes.” 

“You once went by another name.” 

“ How know you that ?” quickly asked Alberte. 

“Never mind how ; it is enough for the present 
that I know it,” 

“ Well, and what then ?” 

“ You are the son of Giovanni Marcello, or you 
were at least when he was living.” 

“ Since you know so much,” replied Alberte, 
“you may as well go on boldly with what you 
have to say.” 

“I knew I was right,” said the stranger, as he 
cast a small line over the row-lock of Alberte’s 
boat, so that they might be more easily kept to- 
gether, then lowering his voice he continued : “I 
have a secret for the ears of Marcello's son.” 

“ A secret !” repeated Alberte, in surprise. 

“ Yes, one which might benefit him to know, 
would he accomplish a work which might place 
him once more in the station he has lost.” 

“ Speak on,” said Alberte. 

“ Would you know the secret ?” 

“ If it can benefit me, certainly.” 

“You think that your father was innocent of the 
crime for which he suffered ?” 

“ I know it.” 

“ But can you prove it ?” 

* “ Not yet; but I trust the time is not far distant 
when I shall be able to do so.” 

“But suppose I could place in your power the 
means even now.” 

“You, sir V 
' “ Yes.” 


THE YOUNG STRANGER. 


0 ® 

“ Can you do it ?” 

“ Yes.” 

‘‘And will you do it ?” exclaimed Alberte, as he 
started from his seat, and fixed an earnest gaze 
upon the stranger. 

“ If I had not intended so to do, I should not cer- 
tainly have held out the hope,” returned he. “And 
now, if you will follow me a short distance, I will 
give you the necessary information.” 

“ But why not do it here ?” 

“Here?” reiterated the stranger. “That might 
be done if there were not papers which it is neces- 
sary you should possess.” 

“ If they are far out of the way,” suggested Al- 
berte, “I might find my strength inadequate to the 
task of rowing back again; for I am but just re- 
lieved from a bed of sickness, and already my 
nerves begin to weaken from the exercise I have 
now taken.” 

“Oh, let not that trouble you,” good-naturedly 
answered Alberte's companion, “for I will row you 
myself. You can make fast your boat to one of 
the rings here, and give it in charge of the stair- 
master, and I will return you hither in half an hour 
at the furthest.” 

“Then let it be so,” returned our hero, as he sat 
back upon his seat, and turned the head of his gon- 
dola toward the landing stairs. 

Alberte’s strange guide gave a few hurried words 
of instruction to the man who was to take charge 
of the gondola, and then, as both were seated in his 
own boat, he remarked : 


THE YOUNG STRANGER. 


6 « 


“We had better put on our masks. Have you 
one with you ?” 

“ No,” answered young Lioni, looking up in sur- 
prise. “ That is something I do not carry with me. 
But what need have we of disguise ?” 

“Why, you must readily see that some one has 
much interest in keeping your father’s innocence a 
secret ; and although I would help you, still I am 
not willing to bring the wrath of others down upon 
my head in consequence, and to guard against the 
occurrence of such an evil, it would suit me much 
better were we both masked. I have only one that 
would suit you, and with your permission I will 
lend it to you.” 

Alberte knew not that he had an enemy in the 
world, for he had never harbored an evil thought 
against any man, and in the purity of his intentions 
he had no heart to impute guile to others, so with- 
out hesitation he accepted the proffered mask 
and placed it upon his face. But for all this he 
could not repress a feeling of apprehension, yet it 
was so vague and ill-defined that he thought little 
of it, imputing it rather to an excitement produced 
by the expectations that had been raised by his 
companion’s offer than to anything else. 

Instead of pulling his gondola up the main canal, 
the stranger turned into one of the narrow outlets, 
and after a circuitous route of about fifteen minutes, 
he hauled up at the foot of the marble steps which 
led to the palace of the patrician Trivisano. 

“ Do you stop here ?” asked Alberte, as he at once 
recognized the home of his childhood. 

“Yes,” returned the other. “Make no remark, 


THE YOUNG STRANGER. 


67 


but follow me as quickly as possible, and as noise- 
lessly, too.” 

A strange feeling of misgiving crept over the 
soul of Alberte Lioni, as he found himself once more 
treading the marble pavement of his father’s halls. 
He could not but fear that all was not right, for if 
there was a man living who would not that the 
secret, of Marcello’s innocence should be betrayed, 
that man was surely the Lord Trivisano, and it 
seemed improbable that one whose interests were 
not connected with his, should thus in broad day- 
light, enter his dwelling for the purpose of remov- 
ing so important papers as those which had been 
promised. He had not much time for reflection, 
however, for his guide soon stepped into a small 
closet, and as he returned with a lighted lamp in 
his hand, he said : 

“Be quiet, now, we shall soon have all that you 
need. Trivisano is out, and from one of the ser- 
vants, whom I can trust, I have received the keys 
to his private vault. Follow on as fast as possible.” 

The objects which seemed familiar to our youth- 
ful hero began to grow less and less frequent, and 
he soon knew that he was in that department 
which lay below the canal, and which in his boy- 
hood he had never dared to explore. 

“Hold!” exclaimed Alberte. “Until I have 
some assurance of what is to follow I shall go no 
farther. If you seek to do me the favor you have 
promised, you can do it as well without my com- 
pany as with it, and I will remain here until you 
return.” 

The youth had not heard the almost noiseless 


68 


THE YOUNG STRANGER. 


tread of a powerful man who had followed close 
behind him since he entered the passage, and no 
sooner had he hesitated and refused to follow, than 
he was seized from behind and a handkerchief in- 
stantly drawn over his mouth. In vain was it that 
Alberte tried to resist, and in vain that he tried to 
raise an alarm, for he found himself within the 
grasp of a man who handled him as though he had 
been an infant, and after passing through several 
small passages, the creaking of a heavy bolt fell 
upon his ear. Not a word had yet been spoken, but 
as he was forced into a dark dungeon, which had 
been revealed by the opening of a heavy iron door, 
his strange guide mockingly said : 

“Now, boy, you may seek for the lordship of 
your father, and perchance you may yet win the 
Lady Isidora’s hand ! Ha, ha !” 

Again and again that mocking laugh fell upon the 
ear of the youth, until at length all was silent as 
the grave. 

Marino Trivisano had his dreaded enemy within 
his power, and his son had entrapped a dangerous 
rival. 


CHAPTER IX. 


A STRANGE VISITOR. 

Night was upon the soul of Alberte Lioni. All 
was night. The sun, moon and stars all rolled on 
in their course, but they imparted to him no ray of 
their cheerful light. The hopes, the aspirations, 
the plans of the future, all sank in utter darkness 
of despair, and around his heart wound the slimy 
viper of dull despondency. The fever came not 
again to his warm blood, the delirium came not to 
start forth the effervescence of his brain, but cold 
as ice ran the tide of life through his veins, and 
with a leaden weight sank the power of mental 
action. Those who fattened upon the wealth of 
his father had come to glut over the fall of the son. 

He knew not that he was in the hands of the 
man who had occasion to fear him, and his young 
experience taught him that fear was the iron tyrant 
of despotism. 

To avenge, the soul of daring may look with 
boldness ; but in the hands of a power which is 
actuated by that evil genius — fear, there is no hope 
for mercy, no expectation of reprieve ;• ’tis the 
coward’s mainspring of action, the strong foothold 
of Satan, and the only thing which will call forth 
the deadly sting of the insignificant viper. 

Alberte kept no account of time, for in the dark- 


70 


A STRANGE VISITOR. 


ness of his dungeon all minute marks were but con- 
tinuous, indefinable portions of chaotic eternity, and 
the hours of the day and the hours of the night 
rolled alike over his soul, without the least indica- 
tion from the great dial of nature to tell him when 
they commenced or when the end had come. 

But the youth was not destined to a hasty death ; 
from unseen hands he at length received a small al- 
lowance of coarse food. He heard the grating of a 
small wicket in the door of his cell, and he heard 
the sound of a basket, as the invisible bearer placed 
it upon the cold, damp pavement ; he called aloud 
for an explanation of his strange confinement — he 
cried for mercy, but no voice answered his own ; 
the iron wicket was closed, and again his own heart 
sent forth the only noise which broke the stillness 
of his prison. For a moment a thought flashed 
across his mind, that ’twere better to die at once 
than to be thus kept along by the mercy which was 
cruelty itself ; but as this thought came, it brought 
with it a companion — the love of life ; then came 
the demands of a nature which God had given him 
for a monitor, and the youth groped his way to 
where the food had been placed. 

As he ate and drank, a portion of strength re- 
turned to its throne, and though he knew it not, 
there was a faint hope struggling up in his bosom, 
and already it pointed its dim, wavering finger up- 
ward toward the heaven of eternal justice. 

Heavy was the sound which fell upon the ears of 
Isidora Vivaldi when she learned the first intelli- 
gence of her lover. The twilight had deepened into 
night — that night had given place to another day, 


A STRANGE VISITOR. 71 

and still he came not back ; but at length a. mes- 
senger returned and reported that the youth’s gon- 
dola had been picked up, far out in the Adriatic, 
where it was found with its bottom turned upward. 
From early morn till late at night, the messengers 
of Vivaldi werempon the search, but not the slight- 
est intelligence could be gained of the missing youth 
further than the fearful tale which was told by the 
upturned gondola. 

“ He’s gone — gone forever !” uttered the fair Isa- 
dora, as her father vainly endeavored to quiet her. 
“ My heart’s best and only love lies beneath those 
waters from whence, but a few short days ago, he 
so nobly rescued me. Be still, my soul ! — settle 
down, ye clouds of despair — the dream of years has 
passed, and I awake in the tomb of this life’s 
joys !” 

“ But, my dear child,” urged the old man, more 
stricken by the uncontrollable grief of his daughter 
than by the misfortune which had caused it, “ there 
is no certainty of Alberte’s death. Let not such 
deep misery weigh you down.” 

“Father,” exclaimed the weeping girl, as she 
raised her eyes, and swept the tears from her face, 
“ did you feel as I feel, you would not ask me to re- 
strain my grief. I know not why it is, but this 
heavy blow seems but the presage of a heavier yet 
to come. I can see a dark cloud gathering above 
our house, and soon it must send its lightning bolt 
upon us. This is but the rising of a terrible 
storm.” 

Lord Vivaldi talked long and earnestly with his 
daughter, but from the fearful thought which 


A STRANGE VISITOR. 


72 . 

haunted her imagination he could not move her 
and with a heart in which Isidora’s forebodings had 
already called up slight misgivings, he at length 
left the apartment. 

This was no sudden love that lay at the fountain- 
head of the fair girl’s grief. He who possessed an 
inestimable treasure, enjoyed its blessings, its hopes, 
its joys, and then lost it, prizes it doubly when kind 
fortune returns it to him. So it was with Isidora. 
Love’s bright diadem had been worn in childhood ; 
beneath Italia’s warm clime her heart had realized 
the worth of the jewel, when it was lost. Once 
again, after the lapse of years, that jewel was found 
and worn ; and when, the second time it was lost 
more keenly than ever fell the sharp blade of fate 
upon the tender chords of her joys. Then, again, 
the very doubt — if doubt it may be called, which 
hung over the prize, the hopes not yet realized, 
which depended upon the accomplishment of her 
lover’s plans — lent a peculiar depth to the fervor of 
her love, and perhaps she felt more severely the 
blow, than she would had there been no doubts pre- 
vious to the catastrophe. 

For half an hour after her father left her, Isidora 
sat alone in her chamber. She tried to analyze the 
feelings that stirred her soul ; she sought to solve 
the fears which oppressed her brain ; but naught 
save the one reality — the loss of Alberte — could she 
bring within the ken of her mental vision. 

Suddenly she felt an impression steal over her 
that she was not alone ; she thought she heard the 
pulsations of a heart beside her own, and turning 


A STRANGE VISITOR. 


73 


round, her eyes fell upon a form which was famil- 
iar to her sight. 

At any other time she would have been startled 
by so summary an intrusion upon her privacy ; but 
at the present time a quick thrill of something like 
hope trembled upon her thoughts, as she saw the 
most powerful man of all Venice gazing upon her. 
If there was a person in the commonwealth who 
had the power to aid her, that person was Niccoli, 
the chief spy of the Council of Ten ; and it was he 
who stood in her presence. 

“ Lady,” said the spy, as he laid his hand upon 
her shoulder, “you know me too well to wonder 
at my strange intrusion, and hence I will at once to 
the business that brought me hither, for I see by 
the dial upon St. Mark’s, that the sun has already 
passed the meridian, and I must be brief. I know 
that one whom you loved has gone, and I know, 
too, how sudden was his disappearance ; but wheth- 
er you have loved him wisely or not, remains yet to 
be seen.” 

“ O, sir,” exclaimed Isidora, “he was kind and 
noble ; his heart was pure and uncontaminated by 
the vices of the city. His only fault in the eyes of 
the world was his misfortune. Tell me, sir, do you 
know anything of his fate V 

“Not yet, fair lady ; but if you can answer me a 
simple question, I may possibly gain some clew to 
his whereabouts.” 

“ Name it, sir — name it.” 

“Do you know if Carolus Trivisano felt any ill 
will toward him V 

“If he knew of his affection for me,” returned 


T4 A STRANGE VISITOR. 

Isidora, “ he would be sure to, for even toward me 
he has used threats.” 

“Very well. At what time did the young man 
leave the palazzo yesterday ?” 

“ I looked upon yonder dial, sir, just as his boat 
put off, and I remember distinctly that the shadow 
fell upon the hour of two.” 

“Of this you are sure ?” 

“Yes, sir,” replied Isidora; and then looking 
Imploringly into the stern countenance of Niccoli, 
she continued: “Now, tell me,, if I have any 
grounds for hope V 

“ Hope, fair lady, is a fickle thing,” returned the 
spy, as he regarded his companion with a look of 
tender compassion. “It will not sustain the life 
which often clings so confidingly to it. Alberte 
Lioni may still live, and I may yet save him from 
the fate which has been assigned to him ; but I 
would have you prepare for the worst, for be as- 
sured that darker clouds than you have yet seen are 
gathering over you.” 

“ So my soul has taught me to fear. But you, 
who know all the secrets of Venice, can surely 
guard me against them.” 

“ Ah, lady, you know little of Venice. I can 
read the actions of men, but their thoughts are not 
mine. Evil lies in the heart, and there are hearts 
about you which contain the germs of all the evil 
you have to fear ; those hearts beat only within the 
darkness I cannot penetrate. All that I know I 
will tell you, not for the sake of sounding in your 
ears a tale which shall fill your bosom with fear, 
but that you may prepared to meet the blow before 


A STRANGE VISITOR. 


75 


it comes. There is a dreadful blow aimed at the 
government of Venice, and if it be not averted, the 
house of Vivaldi will come among its first victims. 
Isidora Vivaldi, can you hear the worst ?” 

“ Go on, sir ; go on. Let me know all ; but for 
the love of heaven do not deceive me.” 

“Then I fear that the fate of Alberte Lioni is 
worse for you than would have been his death. 
The youth is leagued with conspirators. Revenge 
for his father’s wrongs has stirred up his soul to re- 
bellion, and in the hands of artful men he has be- 
come the tool of conspiracy. If such be the case, 
the hand of justice will fall heavily upon him.” 

“Oh, no, sir !” exclaimed Isidora, in almost fran- 
tic accents ; “Alberte could never do that. There is 
not a thought in his heart against the city of his 
birth. Oh, do not — do not haunt me with such ter- 
rible suspicions.” 

“I would not haunt you, lady ; but there are 
stubborn facts in the way. Several times he has 
been seen in close conversation with the most 
dreaded man in Venice — he who eludes my grasp 
as though he were air — Marco Martelino. It was 
that fearful bravo who so promptly rescued him 
from the death which threatened him upon the 
canal, and since then he has sought the youth even 
within his sick chamber. It was another hand that 
led him off yesterday ; but even that hand is red 
with conspiracy. I have traced every circumstance, 
and now that I am sure at what time he left your 
father’s palazzo, I can keep my eye on him.” 

“ And was it for this, sir, that you sought me f” 
bitterly exclaimed Isidora, as she turned her flash- 


76 


A STKANGB VISITOR. 


ing eyes upon the spy. “Was it that from my 
evidence you might convict him ? Oh, if it were 
treason to have shielded him from your power, then 
in Isidora Vivaldi you might have found another 
traitor. I tell thee that Albert© Lioni is innocent of 
any such crime, and in this bosom at least, he shall 
ever find a heart that holds him honorable and 
true.” 

Was that a tear which glistened in the eye of the 
powerful Niccoli ? Can that heart, so schooled in 
the criminal court of Venice, feel sympathy with a 
weeping girl ? At least, the quick glance of Isidora 
caught the trembling of his dark lids, and saw a 
bright drop start forth. She would have taken 
occasion to appeal to a sympathy which she thought 
must have arisen, but in a moment that counte-. 
nance wore its iron nerve again, and as the spy 
turned toward the dial of St. Mark, he said : 

“Think not too hard of me, lady, but rather 
school your heart for the truth which, sooner or 
later, must fall like a thunderbolt upon it. I tell 
thee truly, that the blow must come. If, after 
that, you can rest upon a hope in the future, then 
let it be. You may withstand the fearful storm, 
and yet ride safely in the haven of your hope’s 
fruition.” 

As he spoke Niccoli turned and left the apart- 
ment. Isidora heard his heavy footfalls as he de- 
scended the broad stairs, and when at length all 
was silent, she turned her mind on what had just 
passed. 

What could it mean ? 

Long and earnestly she thought upon the strange 


A STRANGE VISITOR. 


77 

revelations of the spy, but not a ray of light could 
she gather from the interview. It had all been sur- 
mise and suspicion, but to her all was doubt and 
fear. She did not believe that her lover was guilty 
of any crime, but she knew too well the fearful 
character of the power which hung over him, not 
to know that he was in danger. Then there was 
something more ; her father was in danger, and 
she knew not from what quarter to look for the 
evil. She was like the exposed wanderer in the 
midst of heaven’s flaming artillery — she knew not 
which portion of the dark cloud contained the bolt 
that was destined for her bosom. 


CHAPTER X. 


•THE FEARFUL OATH. — THE BRAVO’S SECRET. 

The third basket of food had been passed into 
Alberte Lioni, and from this he judged that three 
days had dawned and set upon his strange confine- 
ment, for the third mess had all been eaten. As 
yet he had not heard a syllable from any other lips 
than his own, nor had he seen the least glimmer of 
light. He was sitting on a low pallet, which he 
had found in one corner of the cell, sadly meditat- 
ing upon his hard fate, when he was startled by the 
grating of the small bolt which secured the wicket 
of his door. He knew that many hours would have 
to elapse before the regular time for his food came 
round, and this was the first interruption he had 
received from any other source since his incarcera- 
tion ; but he had no chance for further reflection, 
for directly his ears were saluted with the inquiry, 
in a low tone : 

“ Is there any one here V 

“Yes,” replied the prisoner. 

“Lioni T 

“Yes.” 

The stranger made no further inquiry, but in a 
few seconds Alberte heard the low creaking of the 
heavier bolts, as they were withdrawn from their 
sockets ; the door then slowly opened, and a ray of 


THE FEARFUL OATH. 


79 

light from a darkened lantern — not strong enough 
to blind him by its rays — sent the first cheerful 
gleams athwart his dungeon, that had blessed his 
dreary solitude. He who held the lantern was so 
thrown in the shade that our hero could not distin- 
guish his f eatures ; but as he entered within the cell 
he asked : 

“ Are you able to walk ?” 

“A short distance, at least,” replied Alberte. 

“ Then follow me.” 

“ But whither !” 

“ To liberty.” 

“How may I know it.” 

“If you prefer to stay, I will again lock your 
door,” laconically replied the visitor. 

“No, no; anything is preferable to this — even 
death itself. I will follow you.” 

“ Quickly, then,” said the guide, as he turned to 
leave the place, “ but make no noise.” 

The stranger took a different course from that 
which had been pui’sued in visiting the place, keep- 
ing directly on toward the end of the vaulted pas- 
sage. v 

When he reached the wall he took from his girdle 
a small iron pin, which he inserted into a small 
puncture in the rock, and a large stone in the base 
of the arch slowly swung inward, revolving upon 
two stout pivots fixed at the ends. Through the 
opening thus formed the unknown guide easily 
passed, and when Alberte looked through, his eyes 
were greeted by the bright ripple of the moonlit 
waters. 

a new life shot through his veins as he caught 


80 


THE FEARFUL OATH. 


the welcome view ; the fresh air came up like the 
invigorating breath of heaven, sending an electric 
impulse along the muscular lines of his frame, and 
with a quick bound he followed on after his libera- 
tor. As he stepped from the aperture, the stone 
resumed its place, and he found himself upon the 
curb of the deep basin in which the patrician gondolas 
were secured. Into one of the boats the guide 
stepped, turning as he did so, to assist Alberte ; but 
our hero felt too exhilarated to need assistance, and 
he lightly stepped over into the gondola. 

The light of the moon dazzled his eyes a little, 
but not enough to prevent his seeing, and as the 
boat shoved out from the basin, he had an oppor- 
tunity to examine the man who had brought him 
thus far out of his bondage ; but he made nothing 
from his observation, for the stranger was not only 
masked, but from the peculiar features of his gar- 
ments, Alberte was satisfied that he was deeply dis- 
guised. His short cloak was that of a senator, 
while his hat more nearly resembled the ducal 
bonnet than aught else — the hat giving the lie to 
the cloak, and the cloak utterly belying the rest of 
the dress. 

The youth would have asked a dozen questions 
which weighed on his mind, but from the utter re- 
serve of his companion he was led to infer that he 
would get no answer, at least till he left the canal ; 
and he very wisely determined to remain quiet, and 
await the result of his adventure. 

The gondola swiftly glided down the smooth 
canal, passing beneath the shade of St. Mark, along 
past the gorgeous palaces of the patricians, till at 


THE FEARFUL OATH. '1 

length it turned into one of the narrower streams 
which l’an up among the casinos, and after a quick 
pull of several minutes, the powerful oarsman 
brought his boat to a sharp turn to the right, and 
drawing his oars quickly in, he bent his form 
slightly forward, and beckoned for Alberte to do the 
same. 

The bows of the gondola struck full on the plank- 
ing of a deep inlet from the'canal, but instead of 
the sudden shock which the youth expected, he was 
surprised to see the wooden wall divide into two 
equal parts, and in a moment more he was gliding 
along in the midst of total darkness. 

As the boat grated against the landing, the un- 
known removed the covering from his lantern, and 
as its dim rays struggled through the gloom, the 
youth found himself in what appeared to be the 
cellar of some large building, into which the waters 
of the canal had free access. 

The guide stepped out upon the pavement, se- 
cured the boat, and then turning toward a flight of 
stone steps which led upward, he bade his com- 
panion to follow him. Alberte did so with much 
difficulty, for the way through several intricate 
turnings and narrow passages was dark, and he 
had hard work to keep up. He asked for no assist- 
ance, however, determined to remain silent till he 
should arrive at his journey’s end. At length the 
wished-for moment arrived, for at the end of the 
last passage his' guide unlocked a small door which 
opened to the left, and our hero was ushered into 
an apartment which, if it was not large and sump- 
tuous, was at least neat and comfortable, and no 


S2 THE FEARFUL OATH. 

sooner had he reached a lounge which stood be- 
neath one of the balconied windows than he settled 
down upon its cushioned seat almost exhausted. 

The unknown slowly turned the key upon the 
inside of the door, then walked to a table directly 
opposite to where Alberte had seated himself, and 
having lighted a wax taper, he removed his hat, 
cloak and mask. 

“ The bravo !” exclaimed Alberte, starting up 
from his seat as his eyes caught the dark features 
of the powerful man who had led him thither. 

“ This is the second time that Alberte Lioni has 
owed his life to the dread of Venice,” said Marte- 
lino, seeming not to notice the surprise of the youth; 
“but I think you had better be here than in the 
deep dungeons of Lord Trivisano.” 

“ I have heard that it was you who saved me 
upon the canal, but till the present moment I have 
had no chance to return you my thanks; now, how- 
ever, I do so most heartily, and I am sorry to be 
obliged to add that, for the present, that is all I can 
repay you; but the time may come when I can as- 
sist you in turn.” 

“The time has come,” replied the bravo; “and 
for that reason I brought you hither, instead of 
leaving you with the Lord Vivaldi.” 

“And what can I do for you ?” 

“Do you remember the wrongs of your father ?” 
asked Martelino, as he narrowly watched the fea- 
tures of the youth to see what effect his words 
would have on him. 

“ Do you suppose I can ever forget them, sir V 

“ Not if you be a worthy son, certainly,” replied 


THE FEARFUL OATH. 


83 

the bravo; and then gazing more intently than be- 
fore, he asked; “ But have you the courage to avenge 
those wrongs (" 

“Through the path of honor, yes.” 

Martelino seemed somewhat disconcerted by this 
answer, but without removing his gaze, he contin- 
ued : 

“ Do you not look upon the government which so 
unjustly condemned him, as unholy and tyrannical 
in the extreme V 

“ The agencies through which the deed was done 
were certainly infamous; but I cannot impute it all 
to the government.” 

“You are too lenient, my young friend. You 
know not how soon you may fall into the clutches 
of the same power. Now, if you have the courage 
to take up your father’s cause, and stand boldly 
forth for the station to which your birth entitles 
you, you will be sure to find a host of friends with 
you. Let the present government but be once 
overturned, and you may yet ascend to the place 
you covet.” 

Alberte Lioni was startled by this bold proposal, 
and for some time he gazed wonderingly at his in- 
terlocutor without speaking. 

“And would you have me turn traitor ?” 

“If for the down-trodden to seek the overthrow 
of their persecutors be treason, then I answer yes." 

“ Marco Martelino !” answered Alberte, while the 
rich blood filled the blue channels about his tem- 
ples, “I feel a conscious pride in knowing that my 
father was innocent of the crime for which he was 
condemned. A thrill of joy runs through my 


84 


THE FEARFUL OATH. 


frame, proscribed though my family name may be, 
when I reflect upon the fact that a traitor’s blood 
runs not through my veins; and the honor which I 
inherit from one of the best of parents shall never 
be tarnished by me. No, sir; Giovanni Marcello 
loved Venice with his whole soul, and his son loves 
her equally as well. That son inherits not even the 
name of his father, but he does inherit from him a 
soul above treason, and that inheritance shall never 
pass from him. You have my answer.” 

While Alberte spoke the sickly shade of his coun- 
tenance was gone — the weakness of his frame was 
overcome, and his whole bearing was changed. A 
noble fire shot forth from his eyes, his limbs were 
nerved with the strong thongs of conscious right, 
and his soul struck boldly out into the sea of duty, 
regardless of the storms which might rise in the 
way. 

As he closed, that stern bravo turned away, and 
sought the high window. His broad chest was heav- 
ing with a peculiar emotion, and when at length he 
turned his face toward the light, there was a change 
so sudden and strange that Alberte scarcely realized 
that he gazed upon the fearful bravo. The piercing 
eyes were softened by the gentle dews of sympathy 
— those hard features were lighted up by a look of 
kind gratitude — that towering form seemed shaken 
by the pulsations of a kindly beating heart, and ex- 
tending his hand to his young companion, he ex- 
claimed : 

■ ‘ Go on in the path you have so nobly chosen, and 
far be it from me to attempt again to lead you astray. 

I have had wrongs which you know not of. Your 


THE FEARFUL OATH. 85 

father, young man, was not the only one who was 
banished from Venice — he was not the only one 
upon whom a foul wrong was done. I — I was ban- 
ished; and I swore, aye, boy, deeply swore — and 
that oath was registered in heaven — that I would be 
avenged. They may hunt the bravo till the senate 
topples on its foundations; the powerful, all-seeing 
and subtle Niccoli may use all his art, and set his 
legions upon my track; but as sure as there is a 
heaven above us, Marco Martelino will be avenged !” 

Alberte Lioni gazed in wonder upon the strange 
man before him, and though his oath was so fear- 
ful, still he could not help admiring the deep power 
of the soul which gave that oath a being, nor could 
he avoid sympathizing with the wrongs he had suf- 
fered. There was something in the looks of the 
bravo, which put a strange confidence in the bosom 
of the youth, and in a frank and open manner, he 
said : 

“I do not wonder, sir, that you seek for revenge, 
and if your revenge can mend the wrongs you have 
suffered, may God aid you in its pursuit ; but for 
my own part, revenge would not help me in the 
least — it would neither benefit me, nor could it ben- 
efit my father. But are you not laying yourself 
liable to still greater suffering — perhaps an igno- 
minious death, by the course you are pursuing V 

“No, boy,” answered the bravo as he cast a pecu- 
liar look upon his companion’s slight but yet noble 
form. “The powers of Venice dare not take my 
life. At this moment there are thousands of strong- 
hands in the city who would avenge my death. I 
have a secret, young man, a secret the revelation of 


m 


THE FEARFUL OATH. 


which would make Venice stir from its circumfer- 
ence to its veiy center. Ah, I am well armed for the 
fight I have chosen, and before another week the 
senate and council will begin to tremble beneath the 
strokes of my direful revenge. But I must leave 
you now, for I am needed. In yonder rooms you 
will find a bed, and upon the table are cordials and 
viands, and the sooner you seek your rest the better. 
To-night and to-morrow you will spend beneath my 
roof, but after that I shall claim no further control 
over your actions. And now, my young friend, 
when Venice shall ring with the fearful deeds of 
the bravo, I trust that in you he may at least find a 
heart that can sympathize with his wrong feelings, 
if not with his terrible deeds. ” 

As he spoke he threw his cloak over his shoul- 
ders, and placing the hat, in which we first saw him, 
with the large black plume floating darkly from its 
side, upon his head, he left the apartment. 

Alberte Lioni studied long and deeply upon the 
character of the strange man who had left him ; 
and after he had sought his pillow, the dark, tower- 
ing form still haunted him, hut before he could 
recall half the incidents that preyed upon hi*' imag- 
ination, he fell into a troubled, dreamy 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE PLEDGE OF MURDER. 

When the bravo left the place to which he had 
conveyed Alberte, it was nearly midnight, and as 
he stepped forth upon the pavement — for now he 
went on foot — he took his way toward the palace 
of Trivisano. He walked with long and quick 
strides, and before many minutes he stood within 
the place where we have seen him before with the 
conspirators. They were all there, and the deep 
gloom which a single taper could not dispel, cast a 
peculiar shadow over their features. There was 
more of the fearfulness in their contracted brows 
than we have yet seen, and ever and anon, as they 
cast their furtive glances about from one to the 
other, they sqemed to dread in each an enemy. A 
dark, meaning smile rested upon the face of Marte- 
lino as his eye ran over the trembling nobles, and 
his lip curled with a sneer ; but none noticed it, for 
their plot was thickening about them, and its results 
and sequences were soon to tell how it went with 
them ; their deeds could not rest much longer 
under the cover of darkness, and save the single 
purpose for which they were now collected, their 
whole attention was now turned to the events of 
the uncertain future. 


88 


THE PLEDGE OF MURDER. 


Lord Marino Trivisano sat by a table upon which 
burned the only taper in the room, while under his 
elbow lay a parchment — the same that he was pre- 
paring when he was so unceremoniously inter 
rupted by the spy — and this was the only instru 
ment upon which their hopes of safety rested in 
case their plot should be discovered. It was a false 
plan of conspiracy, purporting to have been drawn 
up by two of the most influential senators, to which 
had been forged the signatures of some half dozen 
of the nobility, and this was to be placed in the 
pi'ivate apartment of the man whose name stood 
first upon its face. 

“Now,” said Trivisano, as the bravo took a seat, 
“let us at once initiate the newcomers. From the 
senate we have Mentoni and Cordino, and from the 
procurators of St. Marks we have Floradi and 
Steffani. The latter is a most fortunate acquisition, 
for he has much influence with the keeper of the 
arsenal, and the whole armory may be easily taken 
possession of.” 

The light was extinguished, and after all had been 
arranged, the waiting nobles were brought in, one 
by one, and placed under the bans of the league. 
They were bound by the most fearful, oaths which 
could be invented, to remain true to the interests of 
all concerned in the plot, and they were to lend every 
assistance in their power toward the overthrow of 
the senate and council. When the signal might be 
given, they were to head such of the people as might 
be induced to join them, and above all, they were 
to avoid the least sign of recognition in public till 
the final blow should be struck. When the oath 


THE PLEDGE OF MURDEB. 


89 


was administered, and freely taken, the bandages 
were removed from their eyes, and the secrets of the 
conclave were theirs. . Once more the taper was 
lighted, and the conspirators turned their eyes upon 
the bravo. 

“ Now, Martelino,” said Lord Marino, “we have 
to do with you.” 

“ Say on, my lord,” returned the bravo. 

“ The Lord Francis Vivaldi must not live to see 
the light of another sun !” 

At the mention of the name of the chief of the 
senate inquisitors, and at the idea of such a sudden 
disposition of him, the newly-initiated nobles 
blanched and trembled. 

“ Perhaps you had not expected such summary 
measures,” sarcastically remarked the bravo, as he 
glanced at their trembling features. 

“ But the old inquisitor is powerfnl and popular,” 
returned Mentoni ; “and his removal will create 
more sensation than the bud of a plot should war- 
rant.” 

“ You need not tremble for that,” said the bravo, 
“ for Marco Martelino stands alone in the light. 
You may plot, my masters, to your hearts’ satisfac- 
tion, and your murder I will take upon my own 
hands, while I openly proclaim to all Venice what I 
have done ; but you must do all but the killing, re- 
member that ” 

“You are ready with your stiletto, sir bravo,” 
remarked Steffani, as he gazed with wonder upon 
the man of all whom Venice stood in dread. 

“While others are equally ready with a traitorous 
brain,” retorted Marco. 


90 


THE PLEDGE OP MURDER. 


The hand of Steffani sought his dagger, but the 
meaning smile upon the lips of the man who had 
thus touched him recalled himself, and he felt half 
ashamed of the feeling he had betrayed ; then turn- 
ing to Trivisano, he remarked : 

‘ £ I suppose, my lord, that you have all matters 
thus far safely arranged, and from your experience 
we may hope for a judicious arrangement to the 
end.” 

“ With you, my Lord Steffani,” returned the old 
noble, “ rests your own safety, and if you are dis- 
creet you need not fear from others. Each man’s 
own love of life must be his mentor.” 

“And his ambition his leading star,” quietly re- 
marked the bravo. 

“ Say rather his love of liberty,” interrupted Gas- 
tello, “ for it is that alone which we seek.” 

“ Aye, my lords and masters, so does the vulture 
seek for liberty, to prey upon whom it pleases, and 
when it pleases.” 

“ And is not Martelino one of us ?” 

“ Aye — for revenge, not for ambition.” 

“A distinction without a difference,” said Gas- 
tello ; and as he noticed that the continuation of 
such a debate might create difficulty, he quickly 
pocketed his share of the cutting sarcasm, and then 
turning to Trivisano, he continued : 

“ Come, my lord, let us have the arrangements 
you have made as soon as possible, that we may be 
studying upon the plans.” 

“ Then you shall have them, as far as it has yet 
been practicable to arrange them. In two weeks 
from to-night, the senate, with the doge and the six 


THE PLEDGE OF MURDER. 


91 


ssavi at its head, meet with the great council, and at 
that time the blow is to be struck. Within the sub- 
urbs there are three hundred men upon whom we 
can count for that night, and it will take them but a 
few moments to overcome the lords and nobles in 
the senate chamber. Dolfino, with a guard of six 
men, will be stationed at the entrance to the arsenal, 
and the moment the nobles are disposed of, our men 
will all rush to his assistance, and arms will be dis- 
tributed to such of • the citizens as will take sides 
with us. Martelino has asked to figure in the sen- 
ate, and his arm alone will accomplish much, for it 
is there that he seeks revenge. The rope to the 
great bell of St. Mark will be cut, and from Stef- 
fani we must expect much aid in that quarter.” 

“ So fares the work well,” said Castello. “Ah, 
there will be no need of brave hearts in the work 
when once the ball begins to roll, for the people of 
Venice are ripe for any change which is not for the 
worse. ” 

“ Be patient, my lords,” said Trivisano, “ for there 
is no danger of our failing. Now, Martelino, what 
say you, shall Vivaldi leave the earth to-night ? ” 

“You have said it, and it shall be done,” replied 
the bravo. “ But ^remember,” continued he, while 
he looked hard upon Trivisano, “we war not upon 
defenceless women.” 

“ What means that ?” asked the noble, who seem- 
ed startled by the manner of Martelino. 

“It means this, my lord — that if, by removing 
the father, I take the prop from the daughter, no 
hand shall do her harm. I think you understand 
me.” 


92 


THE PLEDGE OF MURDER. 


Whether Trivisano felt angry or not, he did not 
show it, but the nervous twitching of his muscles 
told plainly that he withheld some words which, 
had they been alone, might have found utterance. 
He looked upon the bravo as far below him in rank, 
station and power — but he knew, too, that in the 
work they had in hand they must be equals. A 
worm or a beggar he would have spurned, but he 
dared not awake the wrath of the tiger ; so with a 
bite of his thin lips, the Lord Marino bowed to 
the will of the bravo, in appearance, at least, and 
with a forced look of friendly care, he said : 

“Haste thee to thy work, Marco, for already has 
the morn of a new day sprung from the dead mid- 
night, and you will be safer at the task now than 
in a few hours hence.” 

The bravo bowed to Trivisano a silent answer, 
and with a nod of parting farewell to the remain- 
der of the assembly, he left the apartment. 

As the bravo emerged from the palace of Trivi- 
sano, he retraced his steps toward the house where 
he had left Alberte Lioni, and entering by a private 
way, he ascended to a small room, so situated at 
one extreme angle of the building, that no one 
would ever have noticed it had they not previously 
known of its existence. * 

The pressure of a small spring, which was adroit- 
ly inlaid with the bevel of the panel, caused the be- 
fore unnoticed door to open, giving admittance to a 
small room of crescent shape, which it took from 
the swell corner of the structure within which it 
was built. 

Within this apartment stood a small cabinet, 


THE PLEDGE OF MURDER. 


93 


from the front of which descended a writing table, 
while in the upper part was a receptacle for books, 
manuscripts, etc. 

In one of the extremities of the room, where the 
two walls formed a very acute angle, there was 
built a small furnace, within which a quantity of 
combustible materials was ready placed for imme- 
diate use, and as soon as Martelino had lighted a 
candle, he proceeded at once to ignite it. After 
watching a few moments to satisfy himself that the 
fire thus created would be sufficient for present 
purposes, he turned himself to the cabinet, and 
took a seat at the leaf ; then unlocking a small 
drawer, he took therefrom an old vellum manu- 
script, and was soon buried in *the depths of its 
mysteries. 

As he sat thus, intently poring over the curious 
characters upon the parchment, the candle threw a 
death-like glare upon his dark features, casting a 
strange, ominous look over his person, which 
loomed up in the slightly -relieved darkness like a 
dread spirit of evil. 

Ever and anon, as some passage would seem to 
strike his attention, a grim smile of satisfaction rest- 
ed for a moment upon his features, but it would 
pass away, and again he would turn over the leaf 
and seek farther. At length he gazed longer than 
before, line after line he read over, then reread it, 
and with an exclamation of peculiar satisfaction, 
he rose from his seat. 

Another key was placed in the case above his 
head, and as a small door swung open, the eye 


94 . 


THE PLEDGE OF MURDER. 


rested upon an arrangement of vials and boxes vari- 
ously labeled. 

“ Ah, thou faithful drugs — thou liquids of no col- 
or, smell or taste, save that which doth enchant, 
while yet thou windest thy subtle folds with death- 
ly power about the heart, what treasures lie not in 
thy mystic depths ? Thou, sweet smelling drug, 
when all alone can do no harm — a child might toy 
with thee from morn till night and thou, smooth 
vial, . might pour thy contents o’er an infant’s 
tongue ; and the doting mother should never weep 
that one so dear had tasted of thy limpid fluid. 
And thou, and thou, and still another. Ah, how 
speak and harmless are ye now, when thus divided 
from each other ; and yet the soul of science takes 
thee in her hand, and lo ! thou standest forth an 
enemy which all the powers of earth may never 
conquer. ” 

Thus mused the bravo to himself, as he held a 
small crucible in his hand, within which he first 
placed a grain of drug, and then referring to the 
manuscript at various intervals, he dropped in upon 
it a small portion of liquid from each of four vials. 
When this was done, the crucible was placed upon 
the furnace, and pressing a napkin hard upon hia 
mouth and nose, the bravo watched with eager 
eyes the heating of the compound. 

When his lungs had reached their utmost tension 
he would slip to a small window — the only one in 
the room — and having taken breath, once more re- 
sume his watch over the furnace. At length the 
liquid began to boil, sending forth a pale, yellow 


THE PLEDGE OF MURDER. 


95 


vapor which rose in a cloud to the ceiling, whore it 
hung like a death pall. 

After it had thus boiled for several moments, a 
small ivory ball, containing a slight air chamber, 
was dropped into the crucible, but it quickly sank. 
Another and another followed, till the fourth, when 
a smile of satisfaction rested upon Marco’s features 
as the little white tell-tale floated upon the surface 
of the liquid. 

In a moment the compound was taken from the 
fire and poured into a small vial, which was stopped 
perfectly tight, and then deposited in the bravo’s 
bosom. In a short time the vapor swept out at the 
window, and Marco Marteline breathed much freer 
as the dangerous power he had conjured up was 
thus subdued. 

The Lord Francis Vivaldi slept soundly in his bed. 
No thought of wrong sent his mind in the startling 
path of harrowing dreams — no pent-up feelings of 
evil disturbed the quiet of his peaceful slumber ; 
but calmly he lay, like a good old man as he was, 
nor dreamed he that the spirit of evil was so near. 
He heard not the slow, cat-like tread that seemed 
to come from the very wall — he heard not the slow 
click of steel as a secret spring was started from its 
rest — -he heard not the moaning sound as a panel at 
the head of his bed was moved easily back from its 
place, nor saw he the towering form of the bravo, 
as that fearful man stood within his apartment, 

Slowly and silently did Marco Martelino approach 
the bedside of the sleeping noble, and a strange 
light rested upon his dark features as he stood over 
his victim. 


m 


THE PLEDGE OF MURDER. 


“ Thi8 is the first blow for my masters,” muttered 
the bravo, while a dark frown gathered upon his 
brow ; " but for thee, old man, it shall be an easy 
one. Sleep on, for when thou wakest again thine 
eyes shall open in a place where enmity can harm 
thee not.” 

Marco drew the vial from his bosom pocket, and 
having poured a few drops of the liquid upon the 
corner of the napkin, he gently held it to the nose 
of the sleeper. 

The old noble’s left arm, which had been lying 
across his breast gradually slipped off, until it rest- 
ed powerless at his side — the eyes seemed to roll be- 
neath the closed lids as though they would have 
thrown off the drowsy power, and the muscles of 
his face trembled like the chords of a harp. 

Still that dark man pressed the fatal napkin closer 
and closer to the channel of breath, while with the 
forefinger of his left hand he felt carefully for the 
pulsations of the weakening heart. At length 
there came a deep heaving of the chest, one heayy 
throe in the heart, a slight relaxation of the muscles 
about the face, and the heart of the Lord Vivaldi 
was as quiet as the grave. 

One old servant who slept in the lower part of the 
building, thought he heard a heavy tread within the 
wall next to his bed, and in a moment more the 
sound of a shutting door, which he had never before 
heard, struck upon hi3 ear. He sprang from his low 
couch, and just as he reached the window which 
overlooked the canal, he saw a gondola put quickly 
out from the basin. It was pulled by a powerful 
man, and as the moon sent her rays upon the scene, 


THE PLEDGE OF MURDEB. 


#7 


■ 

the old servant saw a form, covered by a large 
cloak, lying across the seats in the stern. 

As he gazed upon that cloak, now growing indis- 
tinct in the distance, something told him that it 
was the shroud of death. 


CHAPTER XII. 

CONSTERNATION OF THE PEOPLE. 

rfae next morning after the scene we last record- 
ed, the intelligence of the Lord Vivaldi’s strange 
and sudden disappearance was circulated through 
the city, and the affair was of a character to create 
the most intense excitement ; for the old noble had 
ever been a favorite with the people, not only from 
his true moral worth, but also from the vast influ- 
ence which he exerted in their favor ; consequently, 
on every hand, the bereaved household found ready 
and helping sympathizers. 

Niccoli came at once to the work of hunting up 
the mystery, and in less than an hour after he had 
received intelligence every nook and corner of Ven- 
ice was being searched by his emissaries. 

It might have been an hour and a half after 
Niccoli had first heard of the old noble’s disappear- 
ance — not more than that, for the sun had scarce 
yet peeped over the house tops — when he returned . 
to his dwelling for the purpose of making arrange- 
ments for the prosecution of the business he had in 
hand. 

He had but just seated himself before a private 
cabinet, within which were elaborate records of all 
the criminal transactions in Venice, together with 
an accurate description of the criminals and their 
various places of rendezvous, when he was sudden- 
ly interrupted by the entrance of a messenger from 
the ducal palace. 


CONSTERNATION OF THE PEOPLE. 


99 


‘'How now, Frederic?” exclaimed the spy, as he 
caught the florid expression upon the messenger’s 
countenance ; “ are the people in the palace stirring 
so soon ?” 

“ Yes, Niccoli — the Ten are already in session, 
and they desire your attendance at once.” 

“ Dost know their business V asked Niccoli, as 
he placed his keen dagger in his bosom, and buckled 
on a heavy sword of the finest Milan steel. 

“No, sir,” replied the youth; “I heard not at 
the council chamber — but in the street I learned 
that the old patrician, Vivaldi, had been murdered, 
and I think that must be the business they have in 
hand, for they all looked much troubled, and 
throughout the palace all was confusion and dis- 
may.” 

In a few moments Niccoli was on his way ; and 
when he entered the hall where the Ten held their 
secret sessions he found them in deep and earnest 
consultation. The moment he closed the door be- 
hind him, the chief of the Ten immediately address- 
ed him : 

“ Niccoli, dost know the deed that has been per- 
petrated within the night past T 

“If you mean the disappearance of the Lord 
Vivaldi — yes.” 

“ That is the matter to which I allude,” returned 
the chief. ‘ ‘ Have you yet done anything for the 
apprehension of the murderer ?” 

“We know not yet that he has been murdered,” 
said the spy. 

“But we do know that he has been most foully 
murdered, Niccoli, and his murderer must be arrest- 


100 CONSTERNATION OF THE PEOPLE. 

ed. Have you guarded the avenues leading from 
the city V 

“They are always guarded.” 

“ Always V 

“Yes, my lord,” returned Niccoli ; “not a man 
can leave Venice, by night or day the fact of wrk 
I cannot learn by asking.” 

“Then, has Marco Martelino left the city since 
the last setting of the sun ?” 

“No, sir.” 

“You are sure, then ?” 

“ As I am that I stand here,” returned the spy. 
“Over an hour and a half ago I had messengers 
in every part of Venice, and before I came here I 
heard from them all. Upon the daring. bravo I 
have had the most scrutinizing watch kept for a 
month back, and though he has thus far eluded my 
grasp, still I know of all his movements — or at 
least, enough to assure me that he is in the city.” 

“It was he who committed this fearful murder.” 

“Martelino ?” 

“Yes.” 

“And how did you learn a fact which has been 
kept from me and my legions ?” asked the spy, in 
astonishment. 

“From the murderer himself.” 

“But surely you have not seen him — he has not 
dared — ” 

“No, no,” interrupted the. chief of the Ten, “he 
has not dared to show his person here ; but for that 
matter he has dared enough. Here is a letter which 
the doge received this morning, and which he has 
instantly laid before us. Read it, Niccoli.” 


CONSTERNATION OF THE PEOPLE. 


101 


The spy took the letter, and turning to the light 
he read as follows : 

• ‘ To Francesco Dandolo, Doge of Venice, and Can- 
cellieri, the Chief of the Ten : — To-day’s sun will 
rise upon the corpse of Francis Vivaldi. Venice has 
lost her chief inquisitor. The old noble has fallen 
first, but there are yet more whose lives are forfeit- 
ed. This is the first blow I have struck to avenge 
the wrong received at your hands — and though all 
the city is in tumult from this one death, yet Venice 
itself shall tremble before there be empty seats 
enough in your senate to satisfy the revenge of 

“ Marco Martelino.” 

Niccoli read the strange epistle over the second 
time, and then turned slowly toward him from 
whose hands he had received it. There was a 
bright, fiery spot in either eye, and the nether lip 
trembled and turned pale. 

“ What thinkest thou now ?” asked the chief, as 
he received back the bravo’s daring letter. 

“I think as I have ever thought — that Marco 
Martelino is to be feared ; and there is no doubt 
that, if he be not apprehended, he will carry his 
threat into execution.’’ 

“If he be not apprehended ? — he must be appre- 
hended i” exclaimed Cancellieri, with much vehe- 
mence. 

“I know that he should be,” returned Niccoli; 
“ but thus far every effort to that effect has failed ; 
though in truth, I have not tried so much to take 
him, as I have to watch his movements ; for upon 
my honor I believe that he has powerful aid at his 
back.” 

•• l know that he has so intimated,” said the 


10 a THE CONSTERNATION OF THE PEOPLE. 

chief, “but he has evidently done that to distract 
our aim. Let every means in our power be put at 
once into requisition, and if the bravo be alive, and 
in Venice, he must be taken.” 

“ Your wishes shall be obeyed,” replied the spy. 
“ Already I have my eye on a person from whom I 
think we may gain intelligence. He is a young 
man, and I have every reason to believe that he is 
an accomplice of the bravo, for on more than one oc- 
casion have they been seen together, and only last 
night they rode in company upon the canal.” 

“But of one thing tell me,” interrupted the chief. 
“ How is it that this fearful man — this scourge of 
Venice — is so often seen, even upon our canals, and 
yet he cannot be taken? There must be some mys- 
tery here. ” 

“ And so there is my lord — a mystery ' which I 
cannot fathom. He disappears from view with a 
facility equaled only by the fairy tales of the enchant- 
ed cap. Sometimes his boat seems to glide clean 
through the very walls of the canal, and again you 
may follow him in the street, and at the first ap- 
proach toward his person, he will glide into some 
narrow passage and is nowhere to be found.” 

Cancellieri mused long upon the words of the spy, 
and at length, raising his head, he asked: 

“ And what of this accomplice? Who is he?” 

“ Do you remember Giovanni Marcello? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ He was banished on suspicion of treason.” 

“ On conviction of treason,” said the chief of the 
ten. 


THE CONSTERNATION OF THE PEOPLE. 


103 


“ Very well — he was banished and you gave his 
son permission to return to Venice.” 

“ As a student and a common citizen — yes.” 

“ But took away his family name V 

“Certainly.” 

“ He is known as Alberti Lioni ? 

“ Well.” 

“And Alberti Lioni is an accomplice of Marco 
Martelino. ” 

“ Ha, has treason grown up in the child too ?” ex- 
claimed the chief. “Can you take him, Niccoli? ” 

“ I can, my lord.” 

“ Then let him be brought before us before the 
sun goes down; and, if need be, set every citizen in 
Venice upon the track of the bravo.” 

Niccoli bowed respectfully to the council and in a 
few moments he was in the street. People gazed 
in wonder upon the spy and instinctively did they 
turn out to let him pass. In him they looked for 
the man who was to cope with the terrible bravo ! 


CHAPTER XIH. 

THE HALL OF THE INQUISITION. 

Alberte Lioni arose early the next morning and 
for some time the events of the preceding night 
floated dimly through his brain; but at length he 
gained a clear idea of what had passed, and now as 
much as before was he in doubt with regard to the 
disposition which was to be made of him. 

The door of his room he found open but the one 
beyond — that which he had at first entered — was 
closed against his egress, and while he meditated 
upon the strange fate which seemed to have dropped 
thus suddenly upon him, he proceeded to complete 
his toilet. 

He found plenty of food upon the sideboard to- 
gether with wines and cordials, and everything else 
about the place was calculated to have administered 
to the comfort of one who had a mind at rest, but at 
that moment Alberti Lioni would have been hap- 
pier by far in the homeliest place upon the earth 
so that he would have been a free man. 

Ah, ’tis not what men call wealth that begets the 
happiness of life — ’tis not the goods of earth that 
minister to the health of humanity’s soul — ’tis not 
the sumptuous palace, the gaudy trappings, the 
liveried servants, and the dainty viands that 
create the joys of God’s children here on earth— but 
’tis the mind content with what it has. We may 
find contentment on a throne; still, who would think 
of looking for it there ? Beneath the humble cot this 


THE HALL OF THE INQUISITION. 106 

jewel in the diadem of life glistens with a brighter 
effulgence and oftener too, than anywhere else. 

Alberte ate of the food because nature called for it; 
but had it been a crust of hard bread ’twould have 
been all the same. He sat down upon a soft damask 
lounge but had his body reclined upon a slab of 
marble he would never have cared for the difference. 

He felt ill at ease not only because he was igno- 
rant of his own fate, but because there was another 
who would certainly weep for his absence. Then, 
too, where were his hopes of the future ? where 
those bright pictures he had painted upon the can- 
vas of imagination, and where the ground for his 
aspirations ? He knew that enemies were upon his 
track, and that they aimed at his downfall; but 
why they sought to harm him he only knew from 
the remark of him who had first led him to the 
dark dungeon beneath the palace of Trivisano. 

From this he knew that he could not gain the 
property of his father without dispossessing some 
one else; and that he could not possess the 
hand of Isidora without that property. A rival, too, 
perhaps he had, and a powerful one, and if such were 
the case, to what dangers might he not be exposed ? 

Such were the thoughts that passed through the 
youth’s mind as he reclined upon the lounge, and 
while he dwelt upon the curious conduct of the 
bravo, he was aroused by the heavy tread of many 
feet upon the stairs ; next came a thundering rap 
at the door, but before he could arise to ascertain 
the cause of the tumult, the door was burst open, 
and Niccoli, followed by half a dozen men, strode 
into the apartment. 


108 


THE HALL OF THE INQUISITION. 


Alberte, who stood utterly confounded by this 
strange intrusion, had not the power to ask for an 
explanation, for upon the dark robes of those who 
followed the spy, his eye caught the fearful cypher 
which denoted the officers of the inquisition. 

“Your name is Alberte Lioni,” said Mccoli, as 
he approached. 

“You are right,” answered our hero. 

“ Then, officers, here is your prisoner.” 

“But, sir, ” exclaimed Alberte as he turned an 
imploring gaze upon the spy, “ tell me what I have 
done. Of what am I accused V 

Niccoli returned no answer, nor did he even stop 
to look at the suppliant, but turning quickly upon 
his heel, he left the place. 

The unfortunate youth knew that it would be of 
no use to question those in whose power he was 
left, for their lips were ever sealed upon all sub- 
jects connected with their duty, so he submitted 
in silence to the mandate of the spy, and was led 
from the chamber. 

Beneath that department of the ducal palace in 
which the Council of Ten held their usual sessions, 
there was a long, narrow room, dimly lighted by a 
single lamp, which hung from the ceiling, directly 
in front of a high chair, said chair being robed in 
black ; and into this room was Alberte Lioni con- 
ducted by the officers who had taken him from the 
chamber of the bravo. 

A bandage, which had been placed upon his eyes 
as soon as he reached the palace, was now taken 
off, and a cold chill crept through his veins as hte 
eyes ran over the place within which he stood. On 


THE HALL OF THE INQUISITION. 107 

one side of the room stood the high, black chair, 
surmounted by an iron arm, the hand of which 
grasped a bright sword — the whole representing 
justice! It was well that arm was of iron, for the 
justice symbolized by the sword which it bore was 
never known to bend from its purpose. Upon that 
cold, iron arm the angel of mercy would have found 
no resting place. To the right of the chair, against 
the black partition, looking in the dim light like a 
gaunt spectre of death, stood the blood-stained rack, 
while around, upon every hand, were arranged the 
terrible appurtenances of the Venetian Inquisition 
in all their torturing array ! 

No wonder that Alberte Lioni trembled, for men 
stouter than he had stood there before him, and 
trembled. Whatever may have been his feelings as 
he gazed around, or whatever may have been the 
doubts that arose to his mind, they were all speed- 
ily ended by the entrance of the inquisitor of the 
lesser criminal court, who took his seat in the high 
chair, and after a few moments of private conver- 
sation with those who had brought the prisoner 
hither, he turned to Alberte, and asked : 

“ Do you know why you are brought hither ?” 

“No, sir — indeed I do not.” 

“ Then you have not the least conception ?” 

“ No, sir.” 

“If you were placed under oath now, you could 
not tell why you are a prisoner ?” 

“Most assuredly not,” answered Alberte, who 
was surprised at this continuous questioning upon 
a single point. 

“Take that down,” said the inquisitor, as he 


108 


THE HALL OF THE INQUISITION. 


turned to the scribe at his side ; and then, looking 
again toward the prisoner, who stood trembling be- 
fore him, he continued : 

“ Can you tell me in whose apartment you were 
found by the officers ?” 

The youth hesitated a moment before he an- 
swered. The bravo had saved his life twice, and- 
he could not help feeling grateful ; and besides, he 
had promised that whenever the opportunity should 
offer he would return the favor. Perhaps his an- 
swer might lead to Martelino’s apprehension, and 
consequent death. Then again came the thoughts 
of duty. The man who saved his life was seeking 
the lives of others, and should his knowledge be 
withheld, he might be indirectly an agent in the 
crime. But while he hesitated, the inquisitor had 
marked his manner, and in rather a sarcastic tone, 
he said : 

“Perhaps we can help your memory, young man. 
Are you aware by whom you were conducted to 
your last night’s quarters V 

“I am, sir,” replied Alberte, who determined to 
answer every question to the best of his knowledge 

“ Who was it.” 

“ He is called Marco Martelino.” 

“Ah! you remember then. Take that down, 
and mark the hesitation, secretary.” Then turning 
to the youth, he continued : 

“ Are you aware of the character of this Marte- 
lino ?” 

“ Only that he has been kind to me, sir ; for twice 
has he saved my life.” 


THE HALL OF THE INQUISITION. lU'.i 

“ And did you know nothing of his intentions 
with regard to the state of Venice ?” 

“I knew, sir, that he meditated some deep re- 
venge, for wrongs which he had received.’’ 

“ And you did not inform us of it. Mark that, 
secretary. Now, sir, ” continued the inquisitor, turn- 
ing from the secretary to Alberte, “tell us truly 
and without hesitation, did you not know upon 
what business this bravo was engaged when he 
left you last night V 

“ No, sir.” 

“You had not the least idea of it?” 

“Not the least.” 

“ Then you knew not that Marco Martelino, after 
he had left you last night, murdered the Lord Fran- 
cis Vivaldi V 

“ Murdered ! — Vivaldi !” exclaimed Alberte, while 
he trembled and turned ashy pale. “Great God of 
mercy, grant that this be false ! Oh, sir, you do 
not mean that Vivaldi was murdered V 

“ He was, young man, and that, too, by the 
bravo. But why do you feel such sympathy for 
him ? Ah, your feelings betray the workings of a 
guilty conscience. You knew this before.” 

“ As I hope for a heaven hereafter, sir, I did not. 
For the Lord Vivaldi I felt the utmost respect and 
esteem — for beneath his roof, and fostered by his 
kind care, I recovered from a fearful illness. No, 
sir — God knows that this poor life of mine would 
willingly have gone out had it been needed in defend- 
ing that of the old noble.” 

“ If you loved him so well, methinks you should 


no 


THE HALL OF THE INQUISITION. 


have stayed beneath his roof ; at least, until you 
had perfectly recovered.” 

“But I was basely decoyed away, sir, and coo 
fined within a dark dungeon.” 

“ By the bravo, I suppose ?” 

“No, sir,” quickly returned Alberte; “I wat 
dragged away by one of the nobles of Venice — the 
younger Trivisano, and by him and his father I was 
kept in the dark, damp dungeon beneath thier pal- 
ace.” 

“ And from thence Martelino released you ?” 

“Yes.” 

‘ ‘ Have you got all down ? ” asked the inquisitor 
of the secretary. 

“ I have, sir,” replied the latter. 

“ Then let the messenger be called.” 

In a few moments the same youth who had sum- 
moned Niccoli to appear before the Ten, entered the 
room, and the inquisitor, turning again to the secre- 
tary, said : 

“ Fill out a summons for Lord Trivisano and his 
son, to appear upon the instant before our tribunal. ” 

As soon as the instrument was ready the inquisi- 
tor placed his signature to it, and affixed the large 
black seal of the office ; then handing it to the 
waiting messenger, he bade him hasten with it to 
the palace of Trivisano. 

Alberte was conducted to a seat to await the arri- 
val of those who had been sent for ;• and the in- 
quisitor, after looking over the late records of the 
secretary upon which he made several minutes of his 
own, busied himself in overhauling a heap of papers 
which lay upon the table before him. 


THE HALL OP THE INQUISITION. Ill 

The youth knew that Trivisano and his son had 
only been sent for as witnesses, for before this tri- 
bunal those of patrician rank were never brought 
for aught else, and as he thought upon the events 
of the last few days, in connection with this, his 
heart sank within him. 

He had learned, as the reader already knows, how 
much he stood in their way, and if they had once 
tried to murder him by inches, in order to effect his 
removal, what might they not do now, when chance 
had placed within their power the means of merely 
testifying his life away ? 

Around him there were none to sympathize, and 
wherever he turned his eyes, he met but the cold, 
hard features of those who regarded him as a crimi- 
nal. Those dark-robed officers of Venetian justice 
had seen too many young men led from that 
hall to the scaffold, to feel much sympathy with 
youth and beauty ; they were like the heavy cog 
wheels of an engine, doing only what was marked 
out for them, without regard for aught else. They 
did nothing but their prescribed duty ; they knew 
nothing but that duty, nor cared or thought they of 
anything but duty. 

The dull and tedious moments rolled on, each 
seeming an -hour to the heart-stricken youth, till at 
length Marino Trivisano and his son entered the 
hall. As the old noble walked toward the inquisi- 
tor’s chair, his eye rested upon Alberte Lioni, and ha 
instinctively exclaimed : 

“ Holy mother, what is this ?” 

Carolus Trivisano caught the ejaculation of his 
father and his own face blanched as he found the 


112 THE HALL OF THE INQUISITION. 

subject of it. Had that father and son beheld the 
dark sovereign of Tartarus before them, they could 
not have been more astounded, for until that mo- 
ment they thought Alberte Lioni safe within their 
own power. For a moment, the old noble forgot 
that within this court the patrician could not be 
tried for any crime against the state, and a fearful 
tremor shook his frame as the thought flashed 
across his mind that something had been discovered 
of his plot. 

“You are, perhaps, astonished my lord,” said the 
inquisitor, as he noticed the old node’s perturba- 
tion, “ to see that your prisoner has escaped. Did 
you not know before that he had gone ?” 

“ Gone !” murmured the old man to himself ; but 
recollecting himself in a moment, he replied : 

“No, sir.” 

“Then it seems this terrible bravo knows your 
house as well as others.” 

Again Trivisano gasped for breath ; but he was 
quickly relieved by further remark from the inquis- 
itor, who continued : 

“ This young man, called Alberte Lioni, has been 
brought hither under charge of being leagued with 
Marco Martelino. Niccoli has often seen them to- 
gether, and this morning he was arrested in one of 
the bravo’s haunts. He informs us that Martelino 
rescued him from the dungeons beneath your dwell- 
ing, whither he was conveyed by your orders ; and 
I have sent for you and your son that we may 
come at the truth, for the prisoner himself is given 
to strange forgetfulness in his knowledge of the 
facts we would airive at.” 


THE HALL OF THE INQUISITION. 113 

Now Trivisano breathed again, for the immediate 
fear was removed. Perhaps Martelino had played 
him false, but that lay further on ; and immedi- 
ately collecting his scattered senses, he replied, 
while a bold, heartless look rested upon his fea- 
ture : 

“The truth you shall have, sir inquisitor, though 
it would have pleased me better had yonder youth 
remained longer under my roof. You are probably 
aware, sir, that — I believe there are no tattlers- 
here ?’ 

“No, sir,’’ replied the master. “Not a word 
spoken here goes to other ears than the Ten.” 

“ Then, sir, perhaps you are. aware that I am au- 
thorized by the council to use such means, for the 
present, as I may see fit, for the apprehension of the 
bravo or any one who may be connected with 
him.” 

“I know it, sir.” 

“Upon your prisoner,” said Trivisano, “I have 
for some time looked with suspicion ; and at length 
I received positive information that he was plotting 
in the very household of the Lord Vivaldi. I waited 
only till I was doubly sure of the truth of this, 
when I at once had him arrested through the 
agency of my son.” 

“What led first to your suspicions, my lord ?” 

“ By learning that the bravo visited him often 
while he lay sick at Vivaldi’s house.” 

“And might I ask what confirmed those suspi- 
cions ?” 

For a moment Trivisano hesitated, but his heart 
was too much schooled in duplicity to stick at any 


114 


THE HALI> OF THE INQUISITION. 

ordinary difficulty, and with the most perfect sang 
froid, he replied : 

“You must excuse me, sir, if, under the author- 
ity of my office, I decline to answer your question, 
for I have much at stake for the safety of Venice 
which may not now be known. Suffice it for me to 
say, however, that Alberte Lioni is an accomplice 
of Marco Martelino.” 

“ Great God of justice, defend me from that base 
and heartless liar !” exclaimed the horror-stricken 
youth, as he heard that gray-headed old man utter 
such falsehoods against him. 

“Silence!” almost shouted the iron master be- 
tween his set teeth. “ Utter another word like the 
last and the gag shall stop thy mouth.” Then 
turning to Carolus Trivisano, he continued : 

“ Can you inform us of anything which your fa- 
ther has left unsaid 

“ Only one thing,” replied the young noble, while 
he cast a triumphant look upon his rival. “ On the 
day I captured him I watched him for several mo 
ments engaged in earnest conversation with a pow- 
erfully built man, who wore a large hat, over which 
floated a long, black ostrich feather. They were in 
separate boats and as the prisoner pulled his gon- 
dola toward me I took him prisoner. From the de- 
scription I have since had of the bravo, I am confi- 
dent that the person with whom Lioni was con- 
versing must have been he.” 

Poor Alberte now felt indeed that his case was 
hopeless. In the rectitude of his own heart, he had 
not conceived it possible that any man could so 
unblushingly fabricate falsehoods of such men 


THE HALL OF THE INQUISITION. 115 

strous magnitude and evil consequence, as had 
just dropped from the lips of father and son ;~but 
they had been told, and they had been heard, and, 
alas, they had been believed ! 

That cold, iron arm seemed to tremble as above 
the master’s black chair, and the keen, bright blade 
which it held seemed to incline its edge toward the 
ill-fated youth. 

At a sign from the master, the two nobles left 
the place, and as soon as the door was closed, the 
former turned to Alberte with a threatening look, 
and said : 

“ Now, young man, let your answers be quick 
and to the point, or we shall find means to aid you 
in giving them. First, -where is. Marco Marte- 
lino !” 

“ Indeed,- sir, I do not know.” 

“ Where were you to see him again ?” 

“ As true as there is a God who hears me, I 
know not that I shall, ever see him. again.” 

“ Then you persist in denying all knowledge of 
his whereabouts ?” 

“With the naked, unvarnished truth upon my 
lips, I do,” returned Alberte, who began to be 
alarmed by the aspect of the inquisitor’s counte- 
nance. 

“But once more shall I trust to thine unaided 
memory to answer tne, ” uttered the master, as he 
turned a meaning look upon his officers. 

“Will you by any means in your power, give us 
the least knowledge • of -where the bravo may be 
found V 

Alberte looked for several moments into the face 


1 ! THE HALL OF THE INQUISITION. 

of his questioner, and* then, while a tear started 
from his eye, called up by the thought that none 
believed him, he answered, in slow and measured 
accents : 

“That truth which has ever been my guiding 
star, has led me to all I have said since I have been 
within these walls, and once more I tell thee, as 
Gcd is my judge, I know no more of the present 
situation of Marco Martelino, nor of his arrange- 
ments for the future, than does the infant who lies 
on its mother’s breast. And furthermore, every 
word which the Lord Trivisano and his son have 
uttered concerning me is false, basely, cruelly 
false.” 

The master did not speak in answer to this, but 
simply touched a small cord which hung down by 
the side of his chair, and in a few moments two 
men, robed in black, and wearing black masks upon 
their faces, entered by a small door in the farther 
extremity of the room. As they approached the 
center of the hall, the rays of the lamp fell upon 
their ominous forms, and revealed a large, scarlet 
cross wrought upon each of their breasts. Alberte’s 
eyes fell upon the bloody insignia, and the chill that 
thrilled in his veins waxed colder yet. 

Mechanically these two men moved toward the 
fearful engine that reposed, like a slumbering 
demon, at the end of the room, and while it creaked 
and groaned as it woke from its rest, it was slowly 
wheeled to the front of the black chair. The blocks 
and the strong cords rattled forth a death -like 
sound as it came to a stand, and Alberte saw 
before him the bloody rack. 


THE HALL OF THE INQUISITION. 117 

The cold-hearted master of that dread apartment 
spoke not yet, but by a sign of the forefinger he 
instructed his offi6ers to proceed, and the two men 
from whose breasts looked forth the red crosses, 
seized the youth by the shoulders, and threw him 
upon the rack. The cords were passed about his 
arms and around his ankles, and the blocks were 
set ready for the stretch, and then the master said : 

“ Before your limbs are racked by the torturer, 
will you tell us of the bravo ?” 

Alberte Lioni could have suffered in a good 
cause without a murmur ; or had he aught to con- 
ceal which his honor bade him keep secret, he could 
have held his lips unto death ; but to be tortured 
thus without a cause, thus to be doomed, when all 
within his own heart was pure and innocent, was 
more than fortitude could bear, and in the agony 
of his breaking heart, he exclaimed : 

“Oh, sir, for the love of heaven, do not put me to 
that fearful rack. If you have one spark of mercy 
in your bosom, if one grain of justice be left in 
your power torture me not ; for if this heart of 
mine could be torn from my breast, you would see 
it as innocent of crime as ” 

“ Enough, enough !” harshly interrupted the mas- 
ter. “Now tell me what I would know. That 
look, those tears, will never move me. Let the 
wheel be turned 1” 

“ Hold, there !” shouted a deep voice at the door ; 
and as they gazed in the direction from whence it 
came, they beheld the Spy of the Ten advancing up 
the hall. 


118 


THE HALL OE THE INQUISITION. 


“How now, bold intruder?” said the master, 
while a flush of anger passed over his features. 
“How dare you thus intrude upon the secret 
tribunal of Venice ?” 

“Dare !” repeated the spy, with a contemptuous 
look. “ I come with a power which Venice has 
made higher than thine or thy tribunal. Unbind 
that youth !” 

“ Hold !” exclaimed the master as the men sprang 
obedient to the will of Niccoli. “ That prisoner is 
mine till I have done with him.” 

“He may have been yours to question, but not to 
torture,” returned the spy. “In the name of the 
Ten I tell you once more to unbind him.” 

Again the dark-robed men laid their hands upon 
the cords, but instinctively they sought the gaze of 
their master at the same time, and as they found no 
token of resistance there they proceeded with the 
work. The inquisitor felt angry that his authority 
fell to the ground before that of another, but against 
the Ten he dared not even murmur. 

“Have you asked all the questions you desired ?” 
inquired Niccoli, as Alberte was once more upon his 
feet. 

“ I have asked them all,” rather sharply replied 
the master. 

“ That is enough.” 

So saying Niccoli ordered two of the officers to 
lead the prisoner as he should direct, and in a few 
moments Alberte Lioni stood within the hall of the 
Council of Ten. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE PRISON CHAMBER. 

As our hero found himself in the presence of those 
ten men whose power could shake the senate, and 
to whose authority the doge must boAv in silence, 
he could not suppress the feeling of awe that crept 
over him. Even though he was before the most 
subtle tribunal in Venice, still the feeling of alarm 
and fright which the rack and its dark concomitants 
had created, seemed removed from his bosom, and 
in its place came the one sensation of awe-inspired 
dread. He dreaded the power from the decisions of 
which he knew there was no appeal — a power 
which he knew was final and unalterable. He 
dreaded without fright and alarm ; for the majesty 
of that mighty council overcame the immediate 
cause for fear which had sprung from the lesser 
court of the inquisition. The bold-hearted man will 
face undaunted, death in a thousand shapes, and 
yet tremble with fright at the touch of the almost in- 
significant scorpion. 

The Council of Ten had but little to do with Al- 
berte. They asked the same questions which the 
lesser inquisitor had put, and gave him up to the 
sole charge of Niccoli. By the latter he was con- 
ducted to a place of close confinement— but it was 
not a dungeon nor yet was it a dreary cell, though 
in truth it was a prison from which to escape was 
utterly impossible. Through the grated windows 
the fresh breezes of heaven blew in grateful zephyrs, 


120 


THE PRISON CHAMBER. 


and around the room were all the necessities of com- 
fort. One thing alone was wanting — the sweetest 
blessing of life — liberty. In one corner of the room 
stood a table and upon its surface and by its side 
were implements the sight of which sent a wild thrill 
through the yonth’s frame. ’Twas the well-known 
easel, palette, the brushes, the paints, and even the 
canvas of his long-neglected studio. 

“ What kind power has sent me this ?” asked Al- 
berte, as he gazed in unfeigned surprise upon his 
conductor. 

“’Twas one who loves thee, young man, even 
though dark suspicion rests upon thy name.” 

“I know but one in Venice.” 

“ Then it must have been that one.” 

“ That is the daughter of him who was last night 
murdered,” said Alberte, while a cold shudder passed 
over him. 

“And she it was who sent them hither,” an- 
swered the spy. 

‘ ‘ She ? — but how — what time % Surely she did not 
think of this when her poor father is but just 
dead V 

“She knew of your confinement,” returned Nie- 
coli ; “or rather she knew that you were to be con- 
fined for she was informed of the suspicions we had 
against you, and when she learned that something 
might be done to relieve the tedium of your soli- 
tude, she begged that the implements of your cher- 
ished art might be your companions.” 

“God bless her !” fervently ejaculated the youth, 
as a tear started to his eye, and then turning to the 
spy he asked : 


THE PRISON CHAMBER. 


181 


“ A nd does she believe me guilty of any crime V 
“ Net yet. ” 

' Then she never will, for she knows there dwells 
no thought of wrong within my heart. But tell me, 
sir, may I not write to her V 
“Anything that I can read.” 

“ I thank you, sir, heartily. I have not a thought 
that I would hide from the sympathizing heart of 
him who feels for the wrongs of others, nor have I 
a word to write that you may not study in every 
import.” 

One question more Alberte wished to ask, but he 
feared that he should get no answer. However, the 
kind manner of Niccoli thus far so emboldened him 
that he determined to make the trial ; and gazing 
imploringly into' the face of his companion he said : 

“I have been twice taken prisoner — once by the 
son of Lord Trivisano, in a most villainous and un- 
accountable manner, from whose power I was res- 
cued by this dread bravo, but for why I cannot 
tell ; and now I am taken by yourself. May I not 
know what it all means V 

“ I will tell you as much as I can,” replied the 
spy, “ for I have certainly no desire to rack you with 
useless suspense. Why the Lord Trivisano and 
his son have sought thee, you may know as well as 
I, for they have only told me what you heard them 
tell the master of the lesser inquisition.” 

“ Aye, I do know,” replied Alberte, while his 
eyes flashed. “ They fear me — not for the state, 
but for themselves. I believe they know that the 
property and the power which they hold by public 
authority was unjustly confiscated, and they fear 


122 


THE PRISON CHAMBER. 


that I, if at liberty, might gain my rights. Hence 
the base falsehoods they have fabricated.” 

“Well,” said the spy, without betraying either a 
sign of assent or disapprobation at the conclusions 
of the youth, “ and have you no idea of what were 
Martelino’s intentions in releasing you from the 
power of Trivisano ?” 

Niccoli had fixed his eyes calmly but yet sternly 
upon Alberte as he asked the question, and without 
hesitation the latter answered : 

“I know indeed what the bravo desired of me 
last night, but whether that was all or not, I can- 
not say. He boldly asked me if I had the courage 
to enter into a conspiracy for the overturning of the 
government. ” 

“And did he tell thee nothing ?” asked Niccoli, 
who seemed strangely interested now that the mat- 
ter was nearing a point. 

“He told me that if I had the courage to stand 
boldly forth and take up the cause for rebellion 
which the wrongs of my father gave me, I should 
find a host of friends at my back.” 

“ Ah, the plot is ripening. Oh, my noble lords, 
the eye of Niccoli is upon you. I know ye all, as 
though I saw your names upon a scroll. Only the 
bravo — your too ready tool — can thwart the argus 
eyes of the Ten.” 

Thus spoke Niccoli to himself, and turning to Al- 
berte, he continued : 

“You see already that some good has resulted 
from your arrest, for ’tis from such littles as I have 
learned from thee that I make up much of what I 
k now. Why the bravo took thee irom the power of 


THE PRISON CHAMBER. 133 

Trivisano I can well see now that you have told me 
the rest. In the first place he thought your wrongs 
would make you a ready tool, and he also thought 
that in your person would live the memory of wrongs 
which to this day the people of Venice have never 
forgotten. When the Council of Ten banished the 
Lord Marcello from the state, they took from the 
people one of their firmest friends ; and had he 
then, or within a year from his banishment, come 
back and raised the standard of rebellion within 
Venice, I verily believe he might have marched 
through the senate to the ducal chair, for the peo- 
ple loved him.” 

“Aye, and he loved Venice,” added Alberte, with 
a beaming eye and trembling lip. 

“ That rnay have been,” returned Niccoli, “ but still 
you must see that in you we have one whose in- 
fluence is be feared if y6u bend toward rebellion, 
and your apparent intimacy with the bravo gave 
us ample room for such a suspicion. Even now I 
fear that you would rebel should an opportunity 
offer.” 

“Not against Venice,” quickly replied Alberte- 

“ Not to gain the power thy father lost ?” said 
Niccoli, in meaning accents. 

“Not for the ducal diadem itself. I wish, indeed, 
that my rightful inheritance might be restored to 
me, and I have even thought of trying to gain it ; 
but if I walk not honorably to it with the free con- 
sent of the government, then I shall go to the grave 
without it. Yes, my place of burial will bear but 
the simple name of Lioni. Would to God that be* 
fore I die I might wrest from the grave of the coun- 


1-4 the PRISON chamber. 

cil’s denunciation the noble name of my father— 
for even with that I could be content.” 

‘‘Perhaps you speak the truth,” replied the spy ; 
“ but at any rate you will not be condemned with- 
out just and sufficient evidence. You would not 
have been so near the torture had I known what 
was going on, but luckily I arrived in season. Y our 
letter you can write at once, and after that you 
will find plenty here to occupy your time.” 

“ But tell me, before you go,” urged Alberte, 
“ how long am I to be kept here ?” 

“ As long as the council sees fit.” 

“ But I have committed no offence, and you have 
already gained all the intelligence I have to com- 
municate.” 

“Still you cannot leave this place,” said the spy. 

“ One thing tell me — shall I be sent to a worse 
place ?” 

“You ask me more than I can tell,” replied the 
spy, and then taking a few steps toward the door, 
he turned and gazed for several moments in silence 
upon the youth. There was a peculiar look in his 
eyes, and a strange trembling upon his features. 

“Alberte Lioni,” he at length said, “when you 
go from this place you may go to your death ; and 
perhaps your steps may lead you to the goal you seek 
— the name, the estate, the lordship of your father.” 

The youth sprang from his position, but the 
strange man was gone, and the grating of bolts and 
bars recalled him from the fascination of those 
meaning, mystic words: 

“ Your steps may lead you to the goal you seek 
— the name, the estate, the lordship of your father ! 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE FEARFUL CIPHER OF THE TEN. 

On the second day after the death of the Lord Fran- 
cis Vivaldi, a deputation from the senate, together 
with all the councilors of state, attended at the un- 
fortunate nobleman’s palace. His two associate 
state inquisitors, the Lords Alphonso and Blenzi, 
took possession of all the papers pertaining to his 
office, and the whole of his vast estates was taken 
in charge by the great council for one year — all the 
revenues, meanwhile, to be at the disposal of the 
daughter, and at the end of that time she was to be 
put in full and responsible possession. 

There is no need that we should describe — or, 
rather attempt to describe — the grief of Isidora 
Vivaldi, for hers was a heart that showed not all the 
sorrow that dwelt within it. Angels must have 
wept answers to her tears, and the great heart of 
humanity could not but thrill to its very core with 
sympathy at the relation of anguish such as she 
felt. Throughout the vast, gorgeous palace, from 
its dome to its foundation, hung the sable drapery 
of mourning, and whichever way she turned her 
eyes, the very walls seemed to tell her that her 
father was dead — that she was an orphan ! Even 
the streets echoed with the sad notes of wailing, 
and upon the busy canal sounded the voice of ter- 
ror and amazement at the blow' which had come 
upon Venice. 

People walked the streets in silence, or conversed 


126 


THE FEARFUL CIPHER OF. THE TEN. 


together in small knots upon the topic of Vivaldi’s 
mysterious death. The same hand that had taken 
his life was to take more, and each senator, as he 
went forth from his dwelling, knew not that he 
should ever return to that dwelling again ; when 
he lay down at night, he knew not that he should 
rise from his bed to behold another sun. Conster- 
nation, like a cloud of darkness, hung over the de- 
voted city. 

Isidora Vivaldi was like the young yew r , within a 
mighty forest, which had alone been stricken, while 
the flash and roar of the lightning and its thunder- 
bolt still played awfully above. For a long time 
after the visitors left the palace, she sat within the 
private study of her father, and gazed in silence 
upon the w r orn manuscripts which he had so often 
handled. 

While thus she sat, one of the servants informed 
her that a gentleman had just left a letter for her, 
at the same time handing her a neatly-folded but 
unsealed package. As soon as she was alone, she 
slipped off the silken cord, and as the handwriting 
struck her eyes, her heart gave a quick throb from 
its dull inaction, beating once more in her bosom, as 
she read the following: 

“Dearest Isidora: — Fain would this heart send 
forth its last breath of life could it thus restore to 
you all that you have lost. But alas ! how deeply 
have we both tasted of sorrow’s hitter cup ! how 
darkly rolls the tide of affliction o’er our path. The 
father upon whom you rested as the budding rose 
upon the parent stern, has been torn from thee : he 
whose heart was all goodness, and who had so kindly 
lighted the bright lamp of hope in my bosom, has 


THE FEARFUL CIPHER OF THE TEN. 


127 


gone, 1 fear, forever. Even while I write this I am 
a prisoner within the grasp of the powerful Ten ; 
but oh, thou blessed angel of love and gentleness, 
even within these walls I feel the presence of thine 
affection in those companions of art which thou 
didst so kindly send to me, and you know this heart 
swells with gratitude in return. One joy at least 
is mine, for thou, loved one, believest tnat I am 
innocent of even a thought of crime. I know you 
do — in your heart, at least, I know that my image 
is reflected without the taint which suspicion has 
cast upon me. That I am the victim of a foul con- 
spiracy, there is no doubt. When I left your palace 
in my gondola, I was seized by Carolus Trivisano, 
and confined within the damp dungeons beneath his 
father’s palace, and after I was thus cruelly incar- 
cerated he taunted me in my misery by bidding me 
seek the rights of my father, and the hand of the 
Lady Isidora ! Cannot you, dearest girl, translate 
this language ?” 

Here followed a clear account of all that had since 
befallen him, together with the infamous falsehoods 
of Trivisano and his son. 

“And now, fond one, let our leading star be hope. 
I feel that a crisis is coming ; perhaps — ah! that 
cruel, doubtful word perhaps — I may be engulfed 
within the storm, but as I write you now a bright - 
winged angel seems floating above me, and ever and 
anon he points his silvery finger upward. Of one 
thing I am assured : If I go out from here a free 

I man, I shall bear the name of my patrician father, 
and his mantle will fall upon my shoulders. Then 
you shall have a protector, if your heart will still 
trust to the lasting affection of Alberte. 

“ Write to me, Isidora — write.” 

Again and again did Isidora Vivaldi read that 
note. The tears which had so long been dried in 
fiieir fountain by the intensity of grief, now burst 


128 TOE FEARFUL CIPHER OF THE TEN. 

forth in a flood, and her heart felt lighter. Oh, she 
did love the imprisoned youth with a fervor which 
naught could shake, and in her soul she knew him 
innocent of crime. But the hope which Alberte had 
painted looked not so brightly to her. Why should 
it ? There was a terrible reality, which spoke from 
the dark drapery around her, that hung like a pall 
over all hope. 

Again the servant interrupted her meditation. A 
gentleman had called to see her, and brushing away 
the still wet tears from her cheek she descended to 
the hall. As she entered the apartment where sat 
the visitor a sensation of terror crept over her, and 
she recoiled as though she had seen a serpent. It 
was Carolus Trivisano who had desired her presence. 

“Ah, fair lady,” exclaimed the young noble, with 
a feint of deep melancholy in his manner, “allow me 
to be among the first of those who come to extend 
their greetings of sympathy in this, your time of 
mourning. ' I should have come before this but I 
would not intrude upon the first outpourings of so 
sensitive a heart as yours !” 

As young Trivisano said this he raised his hand- 
kerchief to his eyes, and extended his hand. He 
would fain have wept could those eyes have shed a 
tear ; but sympathy had no fountain there, so his 
hard cheek remained dry. Isidora could not play 
the hypocrite ; her heart was not schooled to those 
arts of dissimulation which are necessary to the 
hiding of the true feelings of nature, and instinct 
ively she drew back her hand as she would from an 
asp. 

“I will not refuse your sympathy, sir,” she said, 


THE FEARFUL CIPHER OF THE TEN. 


129 


while the color revisited her cheek, “and I sincerely 
hope your tongue belies not your heart ; but I can- 
not take your hand. 1 ” 

“How ?” exclaimed the young noble, as he drop- 
ped the handkerchief from his eyes, which were far 
from being tear- wet. “ Not take my hand ? In 
what have I offended thee !” 

“In that thou art a villain,” returned Isidora, 
forgetting all else save the utter contempt she held 
for the hypocrite before her. 

For a moment Trivisano hesitated in his reply. 
He had determined to play the hypocrite throughout, 
but his resolution almost failed as this cutting reply 
fell upon his ears. However, he conquered his anger 
for a time, and in a tone of the most consummate 
duplicity he said : 

“You are pleased to be facetious, lady; and still 
methinkest thou hast chosen a strange time for 
such dallying.” 

“Dallying, sir?” 

“ Yes, lady; for 3urely you do not mean what you 
have said. I came hither to offer you my protec- 
tion, and — ” 

“Protection!” repeated Isidora, as her eyes ac- 
tually flashed fire. “Do you talk of protection ? So 
did the wolf once promise protection to the lamb ! 
No, sir ; I want none of it. At this moment I should 
be grateful for your absence. I trust you under- 
stand me. ” 

“Yes, lady, I do understand you,” replied the 
young noble through his clenched teeth; “but 
when I came hither with the power to protect you, 
1 came also with another power. Ah, my pretty 


I3G THE FEARFUL CIPHER OF THE TEN. 

tyrant, within this bosom there beats a heart which 
can revenge as well as love, which can punish as 
well as protect. If you will accept my oft-proffered 
love, you shall be shielded from all harm, but if you 
refuse me again, you shall be my prisoner.” 

“ Your prisoner !” reiterated the proud girl, while 
the muscles of her face and neck swelled with the 
power that was awakened within her. “Who dares 
to make a prisoner of Isidora Vivaldi T 

“I dare !” returned Trivisano, with a bitter, 
scornful laugh, which seemed like the mockery of a 
fiend. “ I came not to be browbeaten, nor came I 
here to abuse thee ; but I did come armed with a 
power to resent insult, and to make thee a prisoner. 
By the command of my father, I shall take thee.” 

“ And dost thou think thus to daunt me, thou 
creeping image of man, thou abortive semblance of 
humanity ? Even though you took me a hundred 
times, there are powers in Venice that would release 
me.” 

“ See here !” slowly and meaningly pronounced 
Trivisano, as he threw open his silken vest. 

Isidora started back in affright. There, upon his 
breast, she saw the fearful cipher of the mighty 
Ten ! Either one of these powers, alone, she would 
not have feared, though she might have been start- 
led ; but to take them both together, the Avicked and 
tyrannical hypocrite, and the authority of the Ten 
to aid him in his evil designs, and there Avas much 
to be feared. The secret visit of one of the officers 
of the Ten is at any time an object of apprehension, 
but when that visit comes in the midst of a public 


THE FEARFUL CIPHER OF THE TEN. 


in 


state of tumultuous excitement, there is everything 
to be dreaded. 

“Now what thinks the lady of my power P 
asked Trivisano, as he witnessed with a demoniacal 
satisfaction the effect of his revelation. 

“I think,” replied Isidora, as she struggled up 
from the terror of the moment, “that your power 
is useless in your present position, for the Ten have 
given you no authority over innocent and defence- 
less females.” 

“ That you are defenceless, fair lady, is the result 
of your own choice ; but that you are innocent, 
remains yet to be seen.” 

“ How, sir ?” exclaimed Isidora, in indignant sur- 
prise. “Do you dar£ to insinuate that you even, 
suspect me gui 1 ” 

She did not finish hqr sentence, for there was 
something so bold and daring, and so self-confident, 
in the manner and bearing of the man before her, 
that her heart fluttered and almost sank within 
her. 

Carolus Trivisano watched with an eagle eye the 
various expressions upon the countenance of the 
lady, and as he saw her trembling and turn pale, 
a quick flush of triumph passed over his features. 
With a look that might well have become, the 
folded snake, he said : 

“You have yet an alternative. If you will but 
accede to my oft-expressed wishes, and freely give 
me your hand in marriage, all may yet be well- 
Once more, I give you your choice.” 

“ Marry thee V* returned Isidora, with an expres- 
sion of the most ineffable scorn, and to whom the 


132 


THE FEARFUL CIPHER OF THE TEN. 


recurrence of this foul proposition had given new 
life. “ I would, sooner submit to all the racks in 
Christendom, for they can but touch the body, 
while with thee, my soul would be doomed to per- 
petual loathing. No, no, you cannot — you dare 
not — you have not the cause for the prosecution of 
your threat.” 

“We shall see, proud lady,” returned the young 
noble, between his clenched teeth. “You have held 
conference with Marco Martel mo.” 

“ Me ?” 

“ Aye, lady, you.” 

“No, sir ; I never saw him to know him.' 

“ But he has visited you in this very house.” 

“’Tis false, oh, basely false ! Once he saved my 
life, but I saw him not. I know not his features.” 

“You need not deny it, for I have evidence. At 
all events, you are my prisoner, and from this 
moment I take possession of you.” 

“ And whither will you convey me V asked Isi- 
dora, rather in a tone of half-suppressed defiance 
than one of inquiry. 

“You will attend me to my father’s palace.” 

“To thy father’s palace!” repeated Isidora, as 
she took a step toward the door. 

In a moment more her hand would have been 
upon the bell rope, but Trivisano sprang forward 
and seized her by the arm. 

“No, no, lady, we have no need of visitors. I 
have as many at hand as I shall need in case of 
emergency. ” 

As he spoke, he drew Isidora toward a small door 
which opened upon the canal ; but the moment she 


THE FEARFUL CIPHER OF THE TEN. 


133 


found the villain was in earnest, she screamed for 
help. 

“Unhand me, sir,” she cried, as she struggled in 
his grasp, ‘ ‘ or the servants will be aroused. ” 

“ Ha, ha ! the servants are safe, and so wilt thou 
be soon. Against the powder of the officers of the 
Ten you will find no defender. ” 

“But she will, though,” shouted a voice from the 
other side of the room. 

Carolus Trivisano trembled at the sound, and laid 
his hand upon the hilt of his dagger. He did not 
draw it, though, for the object that met his gaze 
unnerved the arm. 

“ Marco Martelino,” uttered the astonished noble. 

“Will defend the daughter, though he may have 
stricken down the father,” added the bravo, as he 
advanced toward the spot. “Get thee hence, Caro- 
lus Trivisano, as soon as thy c owardly legs will 
carry thee.” 

“ What, thou mean-born bravo — thou paltry hire 
ling — thou cutter of throats — dost threaten me ?” 

For a moment the giant form of Martelino trem 
bled, but in the next it changed to a dark smile, a » 
he said : 

“ I told thy father ” 

“ Hush ! for God’s sake, speak no more !” quick!} 
exclaimed the villain, as he turned ashy pale. 

“ Then get thee hence at once ; and dare but set 
thy foot in this palace again, and thy craven neck 
shall no longer connect thy head and body ! Dost 
thou understand me, sir ?” 

Like a whipped cur did the young lord turn from 
that apartment ; but before he went he swore that 


134 


THE FEARFUL CIPHER OF THE TEW 


Isidora should yet be his, and that upon the bravo 
he would yet be avenged. 

Did Isidora Vivaldi breathe more freely after the 
young Lord Trivisano had gone ? Perhaps she did ; 
but as she turned her eyes toward the bravo, she 
felt as though she had exchanged the venomous 
reptile for the forest monarch. She shrank from 
the former with a fearful loathing, while in the 
presence of the latter she trembled with awe-struck 
fear. 

For some time Martelino gazed in silence upon 
the trembling girl, and once of twice some word 
dwelt upon his lips ; but it remained unuttered, 
and in silence he strode from the apartment. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


A FEARFUL DISCOVERY. 

The Council of Ten had been in session with the 
two remaining state inquisitors, Alfonso and Blenzi. 
It was near midnight when they closed their meet- 
ing, but yet little had been done toward the object 
for which they came together. The spy had given 
all the information concerning the bravo which he 
had obtained, and he had also assured the council 
that he would be at the bottom of the whole mys- 
tery before the week had passed away — a promise, 
by the by, which the Ten thought easier made 
than fulfilled. They knew not, however, the thou- 
sand wheels which their spy had constantly in 
operation, nor did they begin to surmise how much 
he already knew, which, for the present, he had 
chosen to keep to himself. 

The Lord Blenzi stepped out from the ducal pal- 
ace, after he had closed his business with the Ten, 
and in a thoughtful mood he took his way home- 
^vard. The moon had not yet risen, but here and 
there, where the light, fleecy clouds opened upon 
the blue ether beyond, peeped forth the twinkling 
stars, and as the lord passed on he caught their 4 
images from the still canal, and for a moment he 
stopped on the still Rialto to gaze upon the scene. 
Around him lay the city of his nativity and of his 
pride. 

“ Ah,” murmured he to himself, “ sleep on, dear 
Venice, and well mayest thou sleep. Thou art ali 


136 


A FEARFUL DISCOVERY. 


unconscious of the worm which gnaws at thy breast; 
and even to thy very bosom mayest thou press the 
viper which shall sting thee even unto death. 
Would that I might read the fearful secrets which 
lie hidden in the womb of time, and which must 
have their birth in stern realities, for well I know 
there be secrets there which bode some woe to thee. 
Sleep on, fair city, sleep, nor wake till the iron-healed 
rebellion starts thee from thy dreams of peace. 
Why hangs this load about my heart ? Why these 
fantasies within my brain ? Surely no ill can come 
to me, for wrong I have done to no man. Neither 
had Vivaldi. Ah, there’s murder rife in Venice !” 

“You speak truly, sir.” 

Blenzi laid his hand upon his dagger, and turned 
quickly round, but he saw only the form of an 
old, decrepit monk, whose long beard contrasted 
strangely in its silvery whiteness with the dark cowl 
that covered his head. 

“Whom seekest thou?” asked the, noble, as he 
bowed respectfully to the aged father. 

“ I was on my way to the ducal palace, my son, 
but thy meditations, which thou gavest so freely to 
the winds arrested me. Ah, too truly didst thou 
speak ; there is murder rife in Venice. There hangs 
a blow over the poor city, which, unless it be ar- 
rested, will fall most heavily upon it, and alas ! for 
those against whom its venom is most surely 
aimed.” 

“You speak as one who knows,” said the old no- 
ble, feeling a powerful interest in the words and 
manner of his strange companion. 

“ T know but what others may know,” renlied 


A FEARFUL DISCOVERY. 


the monk. 44 Even now I am on my way, old and - 
feeble as I am with the weight of time, to speak 
what I know, and to gain the means of imparting 
more. Ah, sir, whoever you be, you cannot feel, 
more for Venice than I do. ” 

44 But whom do you seek V 

44 Canst thou tell me if the Ten are yet in ses- 
sion? 55 asked the monk, without seeming to notice 
the question of the other. 

‘•They have but just arisen from their delibera- 
tions, 55 replied Blenzi. 

44 Then I must needs turn my weary steps back, 
for I sought one whom I supposed would be there. 55 

44 But whom do you seek V 

4 *Ah, perhaps thou canst direct me, 55 said the 
monk. 44 1 seek the Lord Blenzi — he who was sec- 
ond in power to the ill-fated Vivaldi. 55 

4 4 Then you need look no farther. Blenzi stands 
before you. 55 

44 Speak you truly V asked the old father in a 
doubtful tone. 44 Thou knowest that there be those 
in Venice whom to trust is dangerous, and I would 
not that an enemy should hear the secret. 55 

44 Look, then, for thyself, 55 said the old noble, as 
he withdrew the mask from his face. 

44 Now I know thee ! 55 exclaimed the monk, 44 and 
thou shalt have my business. Over beyond San 
Paolo, within the house of one Filipo, a worthy citi- 
zen, there lies at the point of death a man whose 
heait, till now, has been steeped in blood. But since 
grim death has beckoned him to follow, his soul has 
relented from its sinful purpose of wicked deeds, and 
he fain would tell us of a plot which evil men have 


138 


A FEARFUL DISCOVERY. 


aimed against Venice. To the Lord Blenzi alone 
will he communicate what he knows.” 

“ Now,” said the noble, who felt a strong inclina- 
tion to follow without further question, but who 
still had doubts, “ what assurance can you give me : 
that I may trust thee V 

“This,” returned the monk, as he drew back his 
dark robe and exposed his left breast. 

“ And what is it ?” 

“ Look nearer.” 

Blenzi looked as directed, and within one of the 
folds but almost hidden by the overlapping cloth, he 
could just distinguish, by the light of a lamp which 
burned near them, the mystic cipher of the Ten. 

“ Go on,” said he to the monk, “ and I will follow 
thee.” 

“I’m glad you’ve thus agreed,” said the old fa- 
ther, in his quaint and half- poetical manner, “and 
may God in the fullness of His grace, feel pleased 
to grant that Venice shall be a gainer by your mood. 
The man must live till we arrive, for life was not so 
dim but that the taper promised some full hours yet 
to come. Verily, I know not what he knows; and 
even though I showed him my authority for the re- 
ceiving of such revelations as do concern the state, 
still no word would he speak to me of what he had 
to tell, but said the old Lord Blenzi must first hear 
it.” 

“But you know not who he is, or from whence 
he came ?” asked the old noble. 

“No, my son ; all I know is, what he has been, 
not what he is at present ; all I know is where he 
is, not where he may have been.” 


A FEARFUL DISCOVERY. 


139 


The walk was not long, and though the noble 
kept his hand upon the hilt of his dagger, still he 
could detect nothing in the manner of the old monk 
to make him fear that he should have occasion for 
its use, and it was with a comparatively confident 
step that he entered the dwelling which the monk 
had pointed out as that of the citizen Filippo. 

“Now, where does this man lie V asked Blenzi, as 
he stood within the hall. 

“ This way, my son,” replied the monk, as he 
took a taper which still burned upon the table, and 
opened a door leading up a stairway. 

For a moment the noble hesitated. He did not 
fear the monk, but he knew not what dangers might 
lie beyond. But then, the cipher ! Surely no man 
in Venice would dare to wear that dread symbol 
without the knowledge of the Ten, and surely the 
Ten would never have given that mystic cipher to 
a man who might not be trusted. Still the old in- 
quisitor held himself upon his guard, and as he fol- 
lowed the monk up the stairway his sharp dagger 
was loosened and half drawn from its sheath. 

“ Within that room upon the bed you’ll find the 
man of whom I spoke,” said the monk, as he opened 
a small door at the head of the stairs. 

The room contained nothing but the bed and a few 
chairs and without hesitation Blenzi entered ; but 
hardly had he stepped within when the door was 
closed. He sought the bed, but it was empty ! He 
looked around but no one was there save himself ! 
A lamp burned upon the sideboard and by its dim 
light, which sent forth a sickly, yellowish hue over 
the place, he sought the door but he found it firmly 


140 A FEARFUL DISCOVERY. 

locked upon the outside ; then he went to the win- 
dow, but he could only see the dark wall of the build- 
ing opposite. Blenzi would have cried for help, but 
when he opened his mouth his lungs refused their 
duty. In the excitement of the moment he had not 
noticed the subtle power that was gaining the 
ascendency over him ; he had not noticed that his 
legs were weakening beneath him, or if he had he 
thought it the result of Jiis agitation. Weaker and 
weaker grew his limbs, and quickly and more quick 
came the heavings of his chest. While his mind be- 
gan to waver upon its throne and his brain to reel he 
instinctively sought the bed and without the power 
to even murmur his thoughts he fell upon its sur- 
face. He felt no pain nor did he experience any an- 
guish. A soft, gentle hand seemed pressing upon 
his heart as though to quell its beatings, and a 
strange feeling of expiring ecstasy thrilled through 
his veins. His eyes, half-shut in by the drooping 
lids, rested upon the lamp. That yellowish flame, 
which now flickered like a star beyond the misty 
cloud, seemed to grow in size till it swelled, a Huge 
ball of fire, to the very ceiling ; its yellow grew to 
gold, then blue, then red, until at length it took the 
rainbow for its semblance ; and while yet the noble 
gazed upon its thrice enchanting power, his dull 
eyes trembled in their sockets, then stood a moment 
still, then closed in utter darkness ! The lamp 
seemed conscious that no one gazed upon it now, 
for with a slight death struggle it shot forth its last 
dim, flickering column and then it died ! 

In a few moments the bolts were drawn aside 
and the monk cautiously peered into the room, and 


A FEARFUL DISCOVERY. 141 

finding that all was still and dark he drew the shade 
from a lantern which he carried in his hand and 
softly entered. He approached the bed and laid his 
hand upon the noble’s heart. As he found that the 
work was done he threw back the dark cowl from 
his face, let the long white beard drop to the floor, 
drew up almost erect his doubled form, and Marco 
Martelino stood, over the body of the Lord Blenzi ! 

“Ah, Blenzi,” he murmured, as he turned and 
took the small lamp from the table, “you knew not 
that the poor flame which lit thee to thy bed was 
the silent, subtle thief that stole away thy life ! 
You knew not that each flicker of the blaze was but 
a summons for thine own heart’s weakening. Cer- 
tainly ’twere a blessing to die by so sweet and subtle 
an agency. That same power which took Vivaldi 
in his sleep, has, in another form, put thee to thine. 
Ah, Venice, now you may tremble again, for the 
bravo will most surely be avenged !” 


CHAPTER XVn. 

THE MEETING IN DISGUISE. 

Hear one of the docks which was situated below 
the arsenal, stood an old, dilapidated dwelling of 
light grayish stone. At the same time when Blenzi 
was wending his way to the fatal chamber of the 
bravo, an old sailor clad in the rough* habiliments 
of his vocation came up from a boat which had just 
landed at the dock and entered the old building. 
Before long another and another and another, 
dressed in the same style, followed up from the wa- 
ter and knocked at the door for admittance. He 
who had first entered hesitated for a moment and 
demanded the word : 

“The Commonwealth,” returned the foremost of 
the two and in a moment more they were ad- 
mitted. 

In less than half an hour ten men had collected 
within that old house. The doors were all secured 
and a lamp was lighted, but as its dim rays fell upon 
the forms around not one of those there could tell 
who was his neighbor, so complete were the disguises 
which they wore. At length one stepped out from 
the rest and with the open palm of his left haiid 
upon the top of his head, he waved the right thrice 
in a circular motion, and as it stopped the index 
finger was pointing toward heaven. The others all 
bowed a token of recognition, and then each passed 
singly by him whispering in his ear as he did so the 
words ‘ ‘ Imperium in Tmperio .” 


THE MEETING IN DISGUISE. 143 

“All is right,” said he who seemed the leader, 
and dropping the mask from his face, the lamp 
shone upon the features of Marino Trivisano. 

The others followed the example. There were 
the Lords Carolus Trivisano, Castello, Dolfino, Po- 
lani, Masto, Cordino,Glorando, Mentoniand Steffani. 

“ My lords,” said Trivisano, “ have you watched 
well how hung the suspicions of the Ten with re- 
gard to the troubles in Venice ?” 

All gave an answer in the affirmative, and the old 
noble continued : 

“ Does there rest in your mind a single reason for 
believing that aught of suspicion yet falls upon any 
of us ?” 

All answered, “No.” 

“ Then,” anwered Trivisano, “I am at a loss to 
comprehend the meaning of Martelino’s conduct. 
The youth, Lioni, I had reason to fear, and so I had 
him safely confined, but the bravo has seen fit to 
release him, and as you all know, he is in the hands 
of the Ten ; but it seems they have been enabled to 
gain no information from him. Before the tread of 
Martelino is again allowed among us, I would have 
your opinions respecting him. Shall we trust him 
further, or shall we take the only means in our 
power of silencing him forever ?” 

“Perhaps he will explain that for himself, and 
save your lordships further trouble,” pronounced a 
deep voice, and in a moment more the object of 
their doubts emerged from the darkness in the ex- 
tremity of the apartment. As Martelino approach- 
ed the conclave he gazed for a moment upon the as- 
tonished nobler and then continued : 


144 


THE MEETING IN DISGUISE. 


“ The Lord Blenzi sleeps a sleep that has no 
dreams. Even but now I left the place where rests 
his cold body. Thus far I have gone in your ser- 
vice, and if you now cease to have confidence in me 
I will trouble you no further. I did take your 
prisoner, Trivisano, and I hoped to have 'bent him 
to my wishes, but when that failed, I left him for 
Niccoli, as the chased hunter drops a piece of meat 
to arrest the progress of the famished wolf. In this 
I have done no harm to your cause, but rather a 
benefit, though in truth I did thwart your designs, 
Trivisano, but for that I have no extenuating word 
to offer. . Does Carolus Trivisano wish for an ex- 
planation further, on points particularly concerning 
him V 

The young noble thus alluded to turned pale for a 
moment, but quickly regaining his self-possession, 
he replied : 

‘ ‘ No, sir ; if there be aught between us that needs 
an explanation, I shall seek it in a more fitting 
place.” 

The bravo smiled at the youth’s threatening man- 
ner, and then turning to the rest he said : 

“You have heard some explanation and you 
probably remember my oath — that I would not give 
one word or action that would implicate you in the 
least, till I first found that one or more of you had 
first harmed or betrayed me.” 

“No, ’twas not an oath,” interposed Gastello. 

“Well, then, let it he an oath,"’ returned the 
bravo, “for here, by all the powers of heaven, I 
swear it. But, my masters,” and here he spoke 
fearfully distinct and slow, “ dwelt there no thought 


THE MEETING IN DISGUISE. 


145 


of harm to me in the words I but just now heard 
from the lips of Trivisano V 

“ It was no thought of harm,” quickly returned 
the old noble, slightly trembling as he spoke, “ but 
’twas only the discussion of thy conduct, which you 
have but now so satisfactorily explained. Were I, 
or Castello, or any of the rest, to be suspected of 
treachery, we should expect the others to speak 
their thoughts freely upon it. We fear not to trust 
thee, so thou mayest rest assured on that point. 
But tell us, for we have a right to know, how you 
gained admission to this building ?” 

“ I came through a passage known only to my- 
self,” returned the bravo, “and for my own safety 
I must for the present keep that secret.” 

They seemed satisfied to let the bravo retain his 
secret, and at once proceeded with their business. 
Ample arrangements had thus far been made, and 
a .full account was given in of how matters stood. 
When the meeting broke up that night, Marino 
Trivisano had in his possession the names of twenty - 
one nobles, and over three hundred citizens, who 
had bound themselves to sustain the leaders of the 
plot. 

The next morning dawned upon Venice, and as 
the bright sun came shining upon her domes and 
flashing through her windows, the news began to 
spread that the Lord Blenzi was missing. Every 
ear had heard it, and every tongue had repeated it, 
and all, too, whispered in connection with this fear- 
ful fact the name of Martelino. But before the king 
of day had been two hours from his eastern point, 
all doubts were put at rest, for at every street cor- 


146 


THE MEETING IN DISGUISE. 


ner, and upon every lamp post, appeared the follow- 
ing placard : 

“ A REWARD OF TEN THOUSAND PISTOLES — Will be 
paid to the person who shall bring, dead or alive, 
Marco Martelino to the Ducal Palace. Venice 
mourns the death of her two noblest sons, Vivaldi 
and Blenzi, who have been foully murdered by him. 
Said Martelino is now within the city, nor can he 
escape therefrom ; and should any person, knowing 
where he is, not feeling able to capture him, give 
such information to the undersigned as will lead to 
his arrest, he shall receive the whole of the above- 
mentioned reward. (Signed,) 

“Niccoli.” 

To the above was also affixed the seal and signa- 
ture of Francesco Dandolo, the doge, together with 
a thorough description of the bravo’s person. 

People everywhere were struck with consterna- 
tion. Every stranger was watched, and even 
avoided, as though he had been an evil spirit, while 
business seemed for the time suspended. More than 
two hundred persons had been taken from the docks 
and canals, and hastened before the council. But 
the bravo still eluded them all. A large, stout-built 
man, who might have a, slight roundness of the 
shoulders, could not be half an hour in the streets 
without being seized upon and hurried away. In 
short, no one seemed to know his neighbor, so 
intently were all eyes seeking the dread form of 
the bravo. The Council of Ten was in session, but 
they had little to say. From the thoughtful, troub- 
led face of the chief spy their eyes turned toward 
the now empty chair, where, but the night before, 
had sat the unfortunate state inquisitor. A case 
such, as the present they had never been called upon 


THE MEETING IN DISGUISE. 


1*7 


i»o consider, and they seemed to feel the same inde* 
finable dread which was working upon the people 
without. Some of the Ten were upon the commis- 
sion which tried the Lords Tiepolo, Baseggi and 
Querini, during the reign of Gardenigo, and they 
all remembered the results of that fatal day on 
which Venice had wept so much for her best blood. 
But even that dark and terrible plot created not 
half so much alarm as the mere shadows~of the 
present cast before them. 

The Lord Alphonso sat there alone in his office. 
He was now the most powerful man in the common- 
wealth, and yet he was at the same time the weak- 
est, for fear bowed him down. Upon his shoulders 
now rested a power superior to all the citizens, 
and even to the doge himself. Even the Council of 
Ten held no control over him, for he stood in the 
same relation to that as that did to the senate — he 
was independent of their power ; and yet, at the 
very thought of Martelino he turned pale within the 
very chair of his office. 

“Niccoli,” said the chief of the Ten, “is there not 
the slightest news of this man ? Have you not 
yet got any clew to him V 

“Only' this, sir,” replied the spy; “I have 
obtained some of his disguises, and thus I am in 
hopes to secure him ; but he means to have a differ- 
ent one for every day in the year. 

“ But if what I have heard is correct,” returned 
the chief, “ there is one thing which he cannot hide, 
and that is his large frame.” 

“But he can so disguise it, nevertheless, that it 
cannot be identified,” replied Niccoli. “ Once I sa w 


148 


THE MEETING IN DISGUISE. 


a monk, not over seven and a half spans high, but 
he looked full nine around the waist — that man was 
Martelino ” 

“ But you did not know it then ?” 

“No. The next day he whispered in my ear, as I 
stood upon the steps of St. Mark, and told me of 
it.” 

“ Told thee of it ?” 

* ‘ Even so. But when I turned, I saw only an old 
lady, who asked me if I knew who that dark man 
was who spoke in my ear, and when I asked her 
where he was, she replied that he had mixed with 
the crowd.” 

“ And you saw him not again V 

“ Yes ; I was conversing with him then.” 

“ How ? Conversing with Martelino ?” 

“ That woman was he.” 

“ But how did you know it ?” 

“That very night I sailed with him upon the 
canal, and thought the while that I was with an old 
white-headed gondolier, who for half a century has 
pulled his boat for the accommodation of the patri- 
cians. When I landed he very graciously informed 
me that the old lady with whom I had spoken was 
the bravo. I disbelieved him, but as his gondola 
shoved off from the shore, he pulled off the old 
man’s beard and hair, and the moon shone full upon 
the dark features of Marco Martelino.” 

“But did you not give him chase ?” asked the as- 
tonished chief. 

“ I might as well have chased a moonbean'i. 
Twenty gondolas were after him, but the very walls 
of the canal seemed to swallow him.” 


THE MEETING IN DISGUISE. 


149 


“Then how can you ever take him ?” asked old 
Alfonso, who had listened with a trembling inter- 
est to this strange recital. 

“There are some peculiarities, my lord,” replied 
Niccoli, “which may not be hidden, and it is by 
studying these that I may succeed. Of one thing 
I am assured, if we do entrap him, we shall find 
him far different from what we expect. Marco 
Martelino is not what he seems — of that you may 
be satisfied.” 

“But that he is a murderer, and that most foul, 
we already know. What else seems he ?” 

“He seems the hireling cut throat, the common 
killer ; but I am confident there is some deep, dark 
secret hidden in his bosom, which none save him- 
self on earth doth know. I have studied his charac- 
ter, and I have traced his actions, and though he is 
an enemy to be feared, still he is not one to be de- 
spised. Venice hath at some time done him a foul 
wrong, and for that he will be avenged.” 

“ But his revenge must not go on,” exclaimed the 
excited chief. “If his progress can be arrested in 
no other way, the council shall pardon him all past 
offences. Aye, even though the act be so grievous, 
still it must be done. The blood of Vivaldi and 
Blenzi calls for vengeance, but the lives of the rest 
bid us pause and reflect.” 

“Let it not be so yet,” said Niccoli. “Before 
another falls, I will strain my every nerve. I know 
that Alfonso is singled out for the next victim; 
but he must not leave the ducal palace, at least un- 
til I have made another effort.” 

“Ah, I thought so,” murmured the aged man, 


150 


THE MEETING IN DISGUISE. 


while a tear coursed its way down his time-worn 
eheek ; “but why, oh, why should the fiend of mur- 
der seek me out ?” 

“ Listen,” said the spy, while his eyes flashed 
around upon the council. ‘ ‘ Can ye not read the 
scroll ? Can ye not decipher the mystic language 
of th^se dire disasters ? Why is it that the govern- 
ment is thus crippled at its head % The next blow, 
if it comes, will be upon the Savi, and this, too, for 
the same purpose — that Venice, when attacked, 
may fall more easily a prey to rebellion.” 

The members of the council made no answer to 
this, but gazed in silence upon the working fea- 
tures of their spy. ^As he stood there regarding 
them with a fixed and determined look, they 
thought they could read in that face a confidence 
in himself which told all that his tongue could have 
uttered. Upon Niccoli they rested ail their hopes. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

CREATION OP A YOUNG ARTIST. 

Even though Alberte Lioni was a prisoner, still 
time hung not heavily on his hands, for the com- 
panions of his dear profession were all around him, 
and in the soul-absorbing occupations he lost alt 
thought of time. To be sure, there were clouds 
above him, but for all that he could command at 
pleasure one gleam of sunlight at least. Then 
another gleam than that of art shone upon the se- 
clusion of the prison ; a gleam than which earth 
could have sent him none more bright. It was a 
letter from Isidora Vivaldi. She had said nothing 
of Carolus Trivisano, nor of the bravo, for she feared 
that the relation might occasion more uneasiness 
than there was any cause for. With this kind let- 
ter next his bosom, the youth had placed the last 
touches upon a picture which had grown up under 
his hand, and as we look in upon him now, he 
stands gazing in rapture upon the creation of his 
art. But before long the admiration of art gave 
way to another feeling, and while he gazed, the 
warm tears began to tremble upon his lids and 
trickle down his cheeks. 

Upon the canvas, which rested on a easel, looked 
forth an humble cot, half hidden by shrubs and 
trees, in front of which were two figures. One was 
that of a middle-aged man, the other a fair-haired 
youth. The latter had a light hat upon his head, 
while across his back was slung a small traveling 
pack. His features the youthful artist had not 


1«S CREATION OF A YOUNG ARTIST. 

dared to paint, but had covered the face with the 
left hand, through the fingers of which several tear 
drops were starting. It wanted no physiognomy, 
however, to enable the beholder to read the soul of 
that boyish traveler ; for in the form, position, and 
in those tears, and above all, in the bearing of the 
remainder of the picture, it could all be seen. The 
other figure stood erect ; the build was powerful 
and the aspect commanding ; with one hand he 
grasped the extended right hand of the boy, and 
with the other he pointed toward heaven ; the head 
was uncovered, save by the dark hair whicl floated 
in the breeze, and the eyes, Jightly upturned, 
streamed with tears. 

Oh, it would take no deep student of art to read 
a picture like that. The stricken father, the depart- 
ing son, the heaven-called blessing, and the soul- 
stirring farewell. Then, too, there was nobility in 
that father’s face, a nobility of the soul, of human- 
ity, as well as of birth. In fact, the man who had 
studied a dozen pictures in his life would not have 
failed to read in that artist’s creation, the banished 
noble. 

While Alberte stood gazing upon his picture the 
door of his prison was opened, and the spy, accom- 
panied by the old state inquisitor, entered the apart- 
ment. For several moments the Lord Alfonso 
stood with his eyes fastened upon the canvas, and 
then, while a deep melancholy rested upon his fea- 
tures, he murmured : 

“Ah, Marcello, what magician’s power has thus 
called thee from the tomb i” 


CREATION OF A YOUNG ARTIST. 153 

“ And do you recognize him ?” quickly asked Al- 
berte, partly in surprise at the old noble’s manner, 
and partly in pride that his efforts had resulted so 
well. 

“A bard fate was thine, thou most unfortunate 
man,” continued the inquisitor, not seeming to no- 
tice the question of the young artist. “ Oh, Venice, 
when thou didst put forth Giovanni Marcello from 
thy councils thou lost one who might have made 
thee better and wiser.” 

As these words fell upon the ear of Alberte Lioni, 
he started as he would have done had the glad 
trump of an angel sounded in his ears, and laying 
his hand tremblingly upon the old noble’s arm, he 
said, huskily : 

“ Did you speak of him whose features and form 
you see upon my canvas ?” 

“ Yes,” returned Alfonso, still gazing upon the 
picture. 

“And do you believe that Giovanni Marcello was 
innocent ? Do you believe he was true and faithful 
to Venice ?” asked the youth, almost fearing to hear 
the answer, lest his suddenly raised hopes should be 
as suddenly crushed. 

“ Innocent, asked you ?” returned Alfonso, for the 
first time turning his eyes on Alberte. 

“ Yes, my lord, do you believe that my father was 
innocent 2” 

“ I know he was !” promptly returned the old in- 
quisitor. 

“ Tell me, sir, oh, tell me, can you prove this ?” 
almost shrieked the youth, as he pressed his nervous 


im 


CREATION OF A YOUNG ARTIST. 


fingers so tightly around the old man’s arm as tit 
make him wince. 

“Yes, good youth, the proof will before long be 
made in public, and ’twas to give thee this as- 
surance that I have now accompanied Niceoli 
hither. ” 

“Oh, thank God for this !’’ ejaculated the youth, 
as he withdrew his hold upon Alfonso’s arm and 
raised his clasped hands + o heaven. “ Look down, 
oh, my father, and hear this avowal, for once more 
in the land f thy birth thy name shall be honored, 
and thy memory beloved. ” Then turning to Nic* 
coli, he exclaimed : 

“ Thou, too, Niccoli, knowest this to be true ?” 

“Yes ; I have long known it.” 

“ And did not tell me !” 

“That was because I would not raise a hope in 
the bosom of one who would, probably, himself 
crush it.” 

“ What mean you by that ?” 

“You know why you were brought here,” re- 
turned the spy. 

“ I know on what suspicion.” 

“ Well, I thought it a pity that you should have 
a name and title but for the purpose of again sink- 
ing it in shame.” 

“Oh, how false, how horrible was the suspicion,” 
murmured Alberte, while a cold shudder crept over 
his frame at the very thought ; and then, as a new 
idea flashed upon his mind, he said; while his lips 
quivered and his eye burned with the fire of earnest 
expectation : 


CREATION OF A YOUNG ARTIST. 


155 


•‘Then you must know that I, too, am innocent 
of the charge which you have brought against me. 
Say, is it not so T 

“You have spoken the truth,” returned the spy. 
“ Then I may leave this place ?” 

“Nay, good youth, not yet.” 

“Not leave it!” exclaimed Alberte in surprise. 
“ Why should I be kept here longer V 

“Because it is necessary,” laconically answered 


Niccoli. 

“ Do the Ten so decree V 

“ No. I will that it be so.” 

The young man looked up into the face of the spy 
with wonder and astonishment. There was no sign 
of sternness there, but, on the contrary, the fea- 
tures of Niccoli wore a kind and benignant expres-. 
sion, and recalling a murmur of displeasure which 
he would have uttered, the youth asked : 

“May I not at least know for what I am still 
held a prisoner V 

“ Not at present,” returned the spy; “but when 
you do know, you will see that no blame can attach 
to the authority which holds you.” 

“But you can at least tell me how long I am to 
remain here.” 

“Yes,” answered Niccoli ; “ you will remain here 
three days yet.” 

“ And then I shall be at liberty V 

“Yes.” 

* “ And you, my good Lord Alfonso, will prove to 
the great council what you have here told me T 
continued Alberte, as he turned to the old man. 

5 It shall be proved, young man, whether I do it 01 


156 


CREATION OF A YOUNG ARTIST. 


not,” returned Alfonso, “and I now trust that your 
remaining stay here will be lightened by the knowl- 
edge that when you go hence, you will take your 
station among the noblest of Venice.’ 

“I thank you, sir, from my soul I thank you,’' 
returned Alberte, “ for thus lightening my load of 
doubt and anxiety.” 

Again old Alfonso gazed upon the picture which 
Alberte had painted, and murmuring some inaudi- 
ble sentence to himself, he took the arm of the spy 
and together they left the room. 

After they had gone, Alberte Lioni walked slowly 
and thoughtfully up and down the place of his con • 
flnement. A thousand thoughts and feelings came 
rushing through his mind, but two only found a 
resting place in his busy brain. The one was the 
memory of the father whose name he could even 
now see upon the temple of honor ; the other, that 
fair being, in whose pure, unsullied bosom dwelt 
that love which was to make him happy here on 
earth. While these thoughts were stretching away 
into the future the youth stopped in front of the pie • 
ture. The first raptures of the artist’s soul had 
passed away, and now he looked upon it with the 
eye of a connoisseur. 

What strange feeling is it that makes the paint- 
er’s face turn so deadly pale ? What is it that 
fnakes him tremble so as he gazes upon the silent 
canvas ? His father’s face looks not as it did. 
Around the brow, the eyes, the nose, the mouth, and 
even in that black, waving hair, there seemed to 
have come a strange, an unaccountable alteration ! 
Again and again he strained his eyes upon those 


CREATION OF A YOUNG ARTIST. 


15 ? 


painted features, but still they wore the same fearful 
change ! 

At length a towering form rose up to his mind's 
eye — a dark, forbidding and an evil form, which 
lowered upon him from that canvas like a giant of 
misfortune. Turn it which way he would, let the 
light strike upon the canvas as it might, still the 
same change clung to it. In vain was it that the 
painter examined each feature by itself, in vain that 
he studied each line and lineament ; yet, when taken 
as a whole, when he gazed full upon the face, which 
but a few moments before had filled his soul with 
rapture, he was struck with a fearful and indefin- 
able dread. The muscles of his face changed their 
tension like an ill-tuned harp, the fingers were 
clenched in agony, and his knees tottered like reeds 
beneath him. 

Alberte Lioni sank back into a chair, and buried 
his face in his hands. 

“ Oh, what vision is this that thus oppresses my 
brain ?” murmured the youth to himself. “No, no, 
it cannot be — ’tis a mere phantom of an excited 
imagination ; and yet, how it speaks from that 
canvas, how every line of my brush has helped to 
build up the very image I would exorcise. Alas ! 
must all my new-born hopes be thus crushed at 
once ? Must I be thus doomed — No, no ! — away, 
for thou liest, deceiving picture !” 

It was a long time before the youth arose from 
that chair, but when he did so, that evil phan^'n 
still haunted him. 






CHAPTER XIX. 


CONCERTED PLAN OF VILLAINY. 

The night was dark, but not stormy. The moon 
wanted some hours yet before her face would look 
upon the city, and the stars were all shut out by a 
thick haze, which enveloped the streets and canals 
in a mantle of almost impenetrable gloom. It 
wanted some minutes of ten when Carolus Trivi- 
sano stepped forth from his father’s plazzo, deeply 
disguised, and made his way toward the canal, 
where he walked up and down the landing stairs 
for several minutes. 

‘ ‘ Does the stranger go by water ?” asked a gondo- 
lier, as he respectfully doffed his hat to the young 
noble. 

“ Why do you uncover your head to me ?” asked 
Trivisano. 

‘ ‘ That I might see thee better, and, perhaps, serve 
thee better.” 

“ That’s right. Mordetti has seen you, then ?” 

“Yes. He told me to-night how I was to receive 
you.” 

“Your name is Barbo, then ?” 

‘ ' Pietro Barbo, sir. ” 

‘ ‘ Did Mordetti tell you what I wanted of you ?” 

‘ ‘ He did not know, sir. ” 

“You are right. Step to the right here, a little 
farther from the stairs — there. Now, do you want 
to fill your purse ?” 

“I know of nothing at this moment that would 
please me better,” replied Barbo ; and even through 


CONCERTED PLAN OF VILLAINY. 159 

the darkness the quick ‘flash of satisfaction could be 
aeon, as it illuminated his dark features. 

u What say you to ten gold pistoles V 

“Tell me how I am to make them,” returned the 
gondolier, as his hand sought the hilt of his poniard, 
in token of his readiness to do anything for such a 
sum. 

“You will have no use for your steel.” 

“ So much the better.” 

“Do you know the dwelling of Sir Francis 
Vivaldi ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Do you know Lady Isidora ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ I would have her in my power.” 

“ That is a difficult job,” said the gondolier, in a 
thoughtful mood. 

“Not if you have the wit which Mordetti told me 
you had,” replied Trivisano. 

“ But how am I to take the lady from the house 
while the place is full of servants V 

“ I expect, of course, that you will use stratagem, 
and that you must study up for yourself.” 

Pietro Barbo thought for several moments, and 
at length he said : 

“If you will pay me ten pistoles on the spot, and 
five more when the job is completed, I will do the 
thing this night.” 

“ Pay you beforenand V exclaimed Trivisano. “ I 
know not yet that I can trust to you.” 

“ Why may you not trust me as well as I trust 
you ? It strikes me that the stealer of defenceless 
females ought not to boast.” 

Trivisano’s hand was upon his dagger 


160 


CONCERTED PLAN OF VILLAINY. 


“ Oh, don’t touch that, my lord. ” 

“ My lord ?” repeated the young noble in surprise. 
“ Why do you lord me ?” 

“Oh,” replied the other, with a light chuckle, 
“ there is po use denying it. A common citizen 
wouldn’t have touched his dagger so quickly. But in 
this business we are equals, unless, indeed, you 
choose to use your weapon, and in that case you 
might find a superior.” 

Trivisano saw at once the position in which he 
stood, and drawing up a little of his hauteur, he 
said : 

“Never mind that. If you will bring Isidora 
Vivaldi to this spot by midnight, and deliver her 
safely into my hands, the sum you name shall be 
yours.” 

“ Agreed !” replied the gondolier. 

Carolus Trivisano placed ten pieces of gold into 
the hand of Barbo, and after admonishing him to 
be cautious in his proceedings, he turned once more 
toward his home. 

Pietro Barbo jingled the gold in his hand and then 
putting it into his bosom, he went to one of the 
casinos which stood near the western wing of the 
church of San Paolo. Here he inquired for his sis- 
ter, and before many minutes a pretty courtesan, 
some eighteen years of age, came tripping to the door. 

“ How now, you lazy dog,” was the first remark 
of the girl, as she saw her brother ; “you are after 
more money, I’ll warrant.” 

“Not so, Stella,” replied Barbo, as he drew her 
out at the door beneath the piazza. “ Listen !” 

‘ ‘ Ah, gold !” 

“ Yes, sister, all gold, and I am yet to have five 


CONCERTED PLAN OF VILLAINY. 181 

pieces more which shall be yours, if you will help 
me to earn them.” 

“ And how can I help you ?” 

“ All I want you to do will require but little effort, 
not above a mere fainting fit, or so.” 

“ 0 San Marco ! I would rather do anything else, 
Pietro, than to faint. No, no, I can’t do that.” 

“Not in earnest, Stella, only a sham, that is all. 
You see there is a young patrician who has taken a 
notion to fall in love with a proud girl, and she 
doesn’t seem to appi'eciate him, so he has hired me 
to take her away from her home, and place her in 
his hands. Now will you help me do it ?” 

“ If you will use no violence, yes.” 

“ Oh, I promise you that ; and it is to avoid vio- 
lence that I want you. ” 

To the mind of Stella Barbo, there was no harm 
in an intrigue of this sort ; and one who has the least 
acquaintance with the state of Venetian society at 
that time, and even as late as the latter part of the 
eighteenth century, will not wonder at it. Those 
peculiar virtues which cast the highest charm upon 
the social relations of a people, were almost totally 
disregarded, and fortunate was that female who 
could bud into an honest womanhood beneath the 
atmosphere of Venice. 

It was with a light and buoyant step that Stella 
threw her light mantle over her head and shoulders, 
and followed her brother, and as she groped her way 
along the dark street, guided only by the sound of 
his leading footsteps, no thought ever entered her 
mind that she was about to aid in crushing the 
heart of a poor defenceless orphan. Alas ! Stella 
knew not what mines of wealth may be in a human 


1054 CONCEliTED PLAN OF VILLAINY. 

heart, and she knew not that a heart could be 
broken, for across her own there had never come 
aught but a passing cloud. Love to her was like a 
butterfly ; it had no beauty but when ’twas on the 
wing.- 

Isidora Vivaldi was in the small drawing-room 
attached to her own chamber, and by her side, upon 
a seat lower than her own, sat one of her maids. 
Near them, a tall, balconied window opened upon 
the canal, and just as we notice them now, the lat- 
ter was opening the sash. 

“Still dark and dreary, is it not, Celia ?’ asked 
Isidora, as the girl looked upon the water. 

“Yes; I can hardly see the canal. Oh, it’s a 
terrible night.” 

“Not quite so terrible, Celia, as when we were 
last upon the water.” 

“No, no, in truth it is not,” replied the girl, with 
a shudder. “ That was a horrible night, and but for 
the young gentleman, we would not be here now. 
Oh, if I were a lady, I should love that youth !” 

A slight smile passed over the face of Isidora at 
this honest remark; but ’twas a mere gleam of the 
moment, for on the next the deep gloom settled 
back, and the tears started to her eyes. 

“ Don’t weep, senora,” urged Celia, as she left the 
window and sat down at her lady’s feet. “ They 
will not surely harm him; they certainly can’t find 
it in their hearts to use him wrongfully.” 

“You know not why I weep, girl,” replied Isi- 
dora, as she gazed with much affection into the face 
of her kind-hearted maid. “You know not half the 
sorrow that weighs me down.” 


CONCERTED PLAN OF VILLAINY. 


163 


“Alas ! that so good and kind a mistress should 
have cause to be so unhappy. I used to weep when 
my father died, for he was a good father, even 
though he was poor. I was too young to weep 
when my mother died, but when your good mother 
died, I cried and felt sad, because she was almost a 
mother to me. But oh, how happy your poor 
mother must be now, when your dear good father 
has gone to meet her ! Perhaps they’ll change into 
angels some time, and come down to bless you. I 
love to think, when I am all alone, that my father 
lives in heaven, and it makes me happy to think 
that I never do anything to make him miserable.” 

Isidora gazed upon the calm features of Celia as 
she uttered her passing thoughts, and simple as was 
the picture, it had much influence over her. There 
was so much resignation, so much true piety, and 
so much kindly feeling, that she could not help 
bending forward and quietly resting her head upon 
the girl’s shoulder. 

“ Look out again, Celia,” said Isidora, as she rais- 
ed her head, “ and see if the moon is up yet.” 

Just as the girl reached the balcony, there came 
up from the canal a loud, piercing shriek, and with 
a startled expression, Celia turned to her mistress 
and exclaimed : 

“ Did you hear that ?” 

“Yes, Celia,” replied Isidora, as she sprang 
toward the window. “Did you see where it came 
from ?” 

“I saw a splash in the water just below our 
stairs. That was a woman’s voice, most certainly,” 
replied Celia. 


2«4 CONCERTED PLAN OF VILLAINY. 

“ Hand me my mantle, Celia, and you run down 
immediately, and get some of the servants, with 
torches. It may be our turn now to lend assist- 
ance. ” 

Celia sprang to obey her mistress, and Isidora 
drew the mantle over her head, and hastened down 
to the water. When she reached the landing stairs 
she found her worst fears realized, for just below 
her she could plainly distinguish a stout man in the 
act of drawing a female from the water. 

‘ * Help, help, for heaven’s sake !” exclaimed the 
boatman, as the light of a torch gleamed over the 
canal. “ The poor lady has fainted !” 

“ Here, my good man, pull your gondola up to the 
stairs, and we will take care of her,” said Isidora, 
as she bade' one of the servants go down toward him 
with a torch. 

The boat was soon at the landing, and three of 
the servants immediately stepped down and took the 
senseless form of the lady up the stairs. 

“Is Lady Isidora Vivaldi here !” asked the gon- 
dolier, as soon as the servants reached the head of 
the steps. 

“That is my name,” answered Isidora, who was 
just upon the point of following the sufferer. 

“ Perhaps you would like to know who the lady 
is who has just been carried up ?” 

The servants were all busily engaged in their at- 
tentions to the fainting girl, and those who eould 
render no assistance were pressing forward to get 
a glimpse of her features, so that their mistress 
was wholly unobserved by them. Isidora harbored 
not the least suspicion of anything like danger to 


CONCERTED PLAN OP VILLAINY. 


165 


herself, and without hesitation she turned back. 
Quick as thought, Pietro Barbo pressed a thick scarf 
against her mouth with the right hand, and winding 
his left at the same time around her waist, he lifted 
her into his boat. It was but the work of a moment 
to bind the scarf tightly around the poor lady’s head, 
and with a quick push he sent the boat far out into 
the canal, holding on to Isidora with one hand, 
while he sculled with the other. As soon as he was 
out of sight of the torches of Vivaldi’s palace, Pietro 
let go the oar, and taking a small, strong cord from 
the locker, he firmly bound Isidora’s arms behind 
her. She could not speak, nor could she utter a 
sound, nor did her captor open his mouth to make 
any explanation; but as soon as she was secured, he 
seated himself upon the rowing thwart, and, with 
both oars in their beckets, he swiftly forced his gon- 
dola through the dark water, toward the place 
where we last saw him with Trivisano. 

“Ah, Barbo, you are a prince of gondoliers,” ex- 
claimed Trivisano, as he caught a glimpse of the 
female form in the stern of the boat. “ Did you get 
her away witnout creating any alarm V 

“ She never uttered a syllable, sir,” replied Barbo, 
“and there she is, safe and sound.” 

The young noble paid the remainder of the stipu- 
lated sum, and in a few moments Isidora was placed 
in his own gondola, and quickly rowed away. She 
had heard the voice of Carolus Trivisano, and she 
knew that she was in his power. Alas ! there was 
no one now to aid her, nor could she make her 
misery known; and with one deep groan of anguish, 
i he sank into the oblivion of utter unconsciousness. 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE FORGED KEYS— THE SECRET PASSAGE. 

It was the hour after Carolus Trivisano received 
from the hand of PLtro Barbo the prize of his 
night’s excursion, that Pascal Modetti sat alone in 
the small, secluded chamber in the upper part of 
Lord Marino Trivisano’s palace, where the reader 
saw him sitting * at the opening of our story. A 
small lamp burned upon the bench before him, 
while by its light he was examining a small, curi- 
ously-constructed key from which he had just taken 
a keen file. From a* shelf before him he took a 
plaster pattern which he adjusted with much pre- 
cision, and then placed the key within it, where it 
turned with the utmost ease and nicety, and as he 
drew it forth a smile of satisfaction passed over his 
features. From the same shelf on which had lain 
the pattern of plaster he then took five more 
keys of about the same size of that which he had 
just finished, and having thoroughly examined 
diem, and passed them carefully through their re- 
spective patterns, he laid them aside, and broke the 
patterns in pieces. Not long after this job was 
finished, a secret door on one side of the room was 
carefully opened, and the Spy of the Ten entered; 
he looked around the apartment with cautious eyes, 
and then approaching the workman, he said : 

“ Well, Modetti, are you ready for me ?” 

‘' Yes, Niccoli; the keys are all ready. I put 
the finish upon the last one just before you entered.” 


THE FORGED KEYS— THE SECRET PASSAGE. 1C ' 

“ And are you sure they will fit ?” 

“Yes ; for I got the impressions most perfectly 
and the keys fit exactly. They move like dies.” 

“ Then Venice may owe thee her thank?, 
Modetti ; for these small bits of metal will give to 
me what our city has long needed, though she knew 
..it not. Ah, Pascal, thy master’s house would not 
so long have remained in quiet had our councilors 
but have known the secrets which the results of 
thy midnight labors will disclose.” 

‘ ‘ And how long have you known this ?’ asked 
Pascal, as he gazed upon the spy with a look of 
admiring astonishment. “How have you so long 
had a knowledge of that which the Lord Trivisane 
holds so secret ?” 

“That is one of the many things which even the 
Ten do not know. Ah, they know not even that 
such secrets exist, and for the present you must 
be satisfied with knowing a little more than do the 
Ten.” 

“Well,” replied Modetti, “I have no desire to 
know that which should be kept secret. But here 
are the keys, and you may be assured that they 
will answer your purpose.” 

Niccoli took the keys and turned them over, one 
by one, in his hand, and after he had thoroughly 
inspected them, he placed them in his pocket, re- 
marking as he did so : 

“You’ve made good work of it, Pascal, very 
good ; and if they prove as effective as the others 
which you have made me, I shall be more than sat 
isfied. ” 

“You need but to try them, Niccoli, and I wager 


168 THE FORGED KEYS — THE SECRET PASSAGE. 

my place in your confidence that they will not dis- 
appoint you.” 

“No, no, do not wager that, Pascal, for you shall 
before long find that your place in my confidence 
is your greatest inheritance. I have proved you in 
every respect, and you are just the man which 
Venice needs.” 

“I thank you for your kind opinion,” replied 
Modetti, “ and I like it the better because it has ever 
been my greatest aim to merit it. But now that 
you have got the keys, there is another thing which 
I would tell, unless you have other business first.” 

“ There is none so pressing that I may not stop to 
hear whatever you may have to tell me.” 

“You know that Francis Vivaldi left an only 
daughter.” 

“ Yes ; the Lady Isidora.” 

“Last night, for I think it is morning now, 
Carolus Trivisano came to me and asked me if he 
might trust me with a secret message. Of course I 
told him yes, and having gained his confidence, he 
explained to me his business. He wanted me to 
find a gondolier with whom he could trust an ex- 
pedition of the iitmost importance ; one who wa's 
quick-witted, but at the same time indifferent to the 
work he was engaged in, so long as he got the pay 
for it. I told him I knew just the man he wanted ; 
one who would cut a throat for five golden pistoles, 
and I referred him to Pietro Barbo.” 

“Good!” ejaculated the spy, as he heard the 
name of one of his most trusty emissaries. 

“Well,” continued Modetti, “he also wanted me 
to find out this Barbo and make some arrangements 


THE FORGED KEYS — THE SECRET PASSAGE. 169 

for a meeting, and also to concert a signal by which 
he could recognize the man without fear of detec- 
tion. This I did, having, previously instructed 
Pietro to let me know as soon as possible the result 
of his expedition.” 

“ And has he told you ?” asked Niccoli, who seem- 
ed much interested in the relation. 

“Yes. He came as soon as he could after the 
business was settled.” 

“ And what was it ? How was the Lady Isidora 
concerned 2” 

“That’s it, sir. She was the veiy object of the 
whole plan. My young noble wanted to get pos- 
sesion of the lady, and he has done it. But it is 
better as it is than it might otherwise have been, 
for now we know the whole transaction, and the 
lady is comparatively safe.” 

“ Do you know where the lady is?” asked the 
spy, while he trembled with excitement. 

“ I know that she is in the palace, sir, somewhere, 
but I know not exactly in what room.” 

“Of course the villain will not trouble her to- 
night?” 

“No,” replied Modetti, “for he, I know, is in his 
own chamber. I have watched him narrowly since 
he came in.” 

“ Watched him yourself ?” 

“No. There are others in the building who obey 
my wishes. Ah, I have a pretty thorough knowl 
edge of all that transpires around me, thanks to 
your valuable instruction.” 

“ Where is the young man’s chamber ?” 

“Do you know where the old man’s cabinet isf’ 


170 THE FORGED KEYS — THE SECRET PASSAGE. 

“Yes.” 

“And you know the long corridor at the head of 
the stairs which leads up to the right of the cab- 
inet V 

“Yes.” 

“Well, his chamber is the second room on the 
left after you ascend the stairs.” 

“That will do,” said Niccoli; “and now let me 
have the lantern.” 

Modetti drew forth a small drawer from beneath 
his bench, from which he took a pocket lantern, 
and having trimmed and lighted the lamp he hand- 
ed it to the spy. 

Niccoli left the room by the same way he had en- 
tered, which led him into a circuitous kind of cor- 
ridor that ran around the building between the in- 
ner and outer walls, which connected, by means of 
secret slides, with all the important rooms in the 
palace. It was, of course, very narrow, and in 
most parts only wide enough to allow a goodly-sized 
man to pass through. Through this passage the 
spy took his way, and after traversing some dis- 
tance he descended a winding flight of stone steps, 
which led him to the second story of the building. 
He had not gone far after reaching the foot of the 
steps before he stopped, and holding the lantern 
close to the wall, he commenced a minute examina- 
tion of the masonry. At length he found the ob- 
ject of his search, which was a square stone, in no 
respect differing from its neighbors, with the 
exception of a small cipher which seemed to have 
been indented with a chisel near the top. This stone 
was carefully eased from its position by swinging 


THE FORGED KEYS — THE SECRET PASSAGE. 171 

©n two perpendicular gudgeons, revealing, as it did 
so, the wooden paneling of the room beyond ; and 
after listening a moment, Niccoli moved a tiny slide 
which was curiously constructed in the mortise of 
the wood, and which opened a small aperture not 
much larger than a pin’s head, through which he 
peeped into the room. 

The spy may have felt slightly disappointed as he 
thus took a survey of the apartment, for he not 
only beheld Carolus Trivisano, but his father was 
also there. However, he quickly placed the slide 
once more over the hole, noiselessly shut back the 
stone, and then hastened away, saying to himself 
as he did so: 

“Never mind, young man, I shall attend to you 
before morning ; and in the meantime, instead of 
listening to the conversation between two traitors, 
which could in no way make me wiser, I will finish 
my night’s business with your father.” 

Niccoli hurried on, and in a few minutes he stop- 
ped before a stone similar to that he had just 
closed, but bearing a different cipher, which he 
opened, and having slid back the panel beyond, he 
entered the private cabinet of the Lord Trivisano. 
Without other hesitation than merely to assure 
himself that all was safe, he took the forged keys 
from his pocket and commenced searching the secret 
department of a large case which seemed to have 
been erected with the original building. In the first 
department which he opened he found several rolls 
of parchment, but after having thoroughly examined 
them, he placed them just as he had found them; 
but in the second he met with something of more 


172 l’HB FORGED KEYS — THE SECRET PASSAGE. 

importance, for, after casting his eyes over the 
pages which he took from thence, he rolled them up 
with a smile of satisfaction and placed them in his 
bosom. Another and another locker were opened, 
from each of which he selected such documents as 
he thought proper, and at length, as he opened the 
fifth, his eyes fell upon a somewhat time-worn 
parchment which he grasped with an eager hand. 

“Ah,” he murmured to himself as his eyes 
sparkled, “ I cannot see, Trivisano, why you should 
have taken this precaution to hide away such mat- 
ters as these. Methinks the flame would have been 
their best hiding place; but you have run your own 
course, and now the secrets of your own bosom shall 
rise up like gaunt spectres of the past to condemn 
thee. Your fate is sealed, my Lord Trivisano, but 
even pity, that slightest of all earthly tributes, will 
never be linked with thy memory after thou art 
dead and gone.” 

Niccoli felt a sensation of sadness creep over his 
heart as he closed the last department of the case, 
and with a noiseless step he left the cabinet. The 
panel was closed, the stone swung back to its place, 
and once more he turned his steps to the apartment 
of the younger Trivisano. 

This time as he placed his eye to the small aper- 
ture, he found that the young man was alone, pac- 
ing up and down his room in a slow and thoughtful 
mood. Niccoli waited till his back was turned, and 
then quickly pushing back the panel, he sprang into 
the room, the slide instantly closing behind him 
and as Carolus turned in his walk he found himseh 
confronted by the man whom he had most reason to 


THE FORGED KEYS — THE SECRET PASSAGE. 173 

dread on earth. For a moment Trivisano stood 
aghast; then collecting himself for a desperate game, 
he asked : 

“ To whom am I indebted for this visit, sir ?” 

“ I came for information from one who wears the 
cipher of the Ten,” replied Niccoli, in a sarcastic 
tone, as he bent his eyes like two stars upon him. 

“And what do you seek 1” 

“ The Lady Isidora is missing.” 

“ Well, and what have I to do with that ?” re- 
turned Trivisano, vainly endeavoring to assume a 
careless look. 

“ Merely to answer my question,” answered the 
spy, still keeping his gaze fixed upon the noble. 

“ And if I know nothing of it, what then V 

“I have not come here, sir, to ask you concern- 
ing subjects of which you are ignorant, nor have I 
come here to trifle. Last night you had the Lady 
Isidora abducted from her home, even while the 
weeds of mourning were still darkening her brow, 
and you conveyed her to this place in your own 
gondola. Now I would have you conduct me to her.” 

“Who told thee that base lie?” exclaimed 
Trivisano, while he trembled with mixed feelings of 
rage and fear. 

“ It’s no lie, young man. Now, take your choice, 
either conduct me to the lady, and that, too, quick- 
ly, or else I will conduct thee to the Inquisition.” 

“ Conduct me to the Inquisition ?” repeated th<* 
young noble. “You dare not do it, sir. It takes 
another hand than thine to arrest a noble of 
Venice.” 

“ But not to arrest one of the deepest-dyed vil- 


.174 THE FORGED KEYS — THE SECRET PASSAGE. 

fains in Venice,” added Niccoli, as he began to trem- 
ble with the indignation that was creeping over him. 

“ Do you dare — -” 

“ Hold !” interrupted the spy in a thundering 
tone. “ I dare do anything that pleases me. Now, 
do my bidding ; and mark ye,” he added, as he 
stepped nearer the villain and bent upon him a look 
of so fearful meaning, that the words were almost 
unnecessary, “if you make the least show of resist- 
ance, if you even dare to look resistance, I’ll crush 
thee as I would a stinging viper, and before the coun- 
cil I will answer for the act.” 

Carolus Trivisano gazed for a moment into the 
face of the spy, and then, with a quick movement, 
he drew his dagger from his belt and sprang for- 
ward ; but the intended victim had his eye too 
keenly fixed on the young man to be taken by sur- 
prise, and stepping on one side he seized the uplift- 
ed arm as he would have seized a feather, and 
wrenching away the dagger, he struck the villain a 
blow upon the side of the head that felled him 
senseless to the floor. He did not stop to see how 
severe had been the effects of theTblow, but taking 
the key from the inside of the lock, he passed out 
and secured the door after him, and then hastened 
down into the lower hall, from which he stepped 
out into the street. As soon as he reached the 
pavement he took from his pocket a small silver 
tube, which he placed to his Ups. A shrill, tremb- 
ling sound reverberated through the street, and be- 
fore long it was answered by the appearance of two 
men— one a gondolier, and the other a cobbler, 
whose stall was upon the Rialto. 


THE FORGED KEYS — THE SECRET PASSAGE. 175 

“ This way,” said Niccoli, as he turned back to- 
ward the hall, “I have work for you here.” 

The two emissaries of the Ten, who had been 
called to the assistance • of the chief spy, followed 
their leader without asking any questions ; and in 
five minutes Lord Carolus Trivisano was on his way 
in their keeping, toward the dungeons beneath th® 
ducal palace. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

A STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT. 

Lord Marino Trivisano, after he had left the 
apartment of his son, sought his own chamber, 
where he immediately sat down to a small table, - 
and commenced writing. He had lost the fervor 
of former days, and the hand of time had set its 
marks upon his brow ; but other marks there were 
upon that brow than age — marks which the corrod- 
ing iron of an evil soul had set there, as indelibly as 
does the lightning shaft sink its track into the 
stricken oak. His hand did not slide over the pages 
before him as was its wont, but it went trembling- 
ly about the work to which its scheming mind had 
put it. 

Oh, what a pity it is, old man, that thy last days 
should be spent in evil ! While the dark angel of 
death is even hovering over thy head, thou shouldst 
be plotting wickedness against thy fellows ; for as 
sure as you sit now by your table, this is the last 
day that will ever close upon your liberty. The 
next shall see thee within the power of that govern- 
ment against which you have been plotting, and 
may the Lord, in his infinite grace, have mercy on 
your soul, for the Ten that is an attribute with 
which they have nothing to do. 

“No, no,” murmured the old noble to himself, as 
he pushed the paper from him ; “I cannot write 
to-night. Night did I say ? No, for yon moon tells 
it must be morning, and still I have not slept, nor 


A STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT. 


If 7 


shall 1 sleep again till I am seated on the throne ! 
Ah, there’s magic in that word ; even now I see a 
sceptre within this hand. I wish I was a little 
surer in my plans. I wish I knew what keeps the 
Ten in such constant sittings, for, by San Marco ! 
they cannot spend this much time upon the bravo. 
But then, my friends are good and true, and as for 
Martelino, he dare not be otherwise, for his own 
head sits too lightly on his shoulders ; so away all 
thoughts of danger, for before another moon rises 
upon Venice, she shall be relieved of a yoke that 
now binds her down, and she shall take her place 
among kingdoms. Aye, she shall have a king ; and 
one, too, who shall not be the mere plaything of 
councils and savi.” 

While Trivisano was thus musing to himself, he 
was startled by a rap at his door, and hastily hiding 
the half- written sheet which lay upon the table, he 
arose and turned the key, and when he opened the 
door, he gave entrance to the chief spy. 

“You are up late, my lord,” said Niccoli, as 
he gazed upon the troubled countenance of the old 
noble. 

“Not later than yourself, sir,” returned Triv- 
isano. 

“That’s true; but then I’ve had business.* Iam 
now on an errand of importance.” 

“ And to me ?” said the noble, while a slight 
shade of alarm passed over his face. 

“I suppose that I must do it with you I wish 
for the person of Lady Isidora Vivaldi.” 

“ Isidora Vivaldi ?” repeated the old man, as 
though the thing surprised him. 


ITS A STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT. 

“Yes, my lord, the lady is in your palace, and 
furthermore, she was forced here.” 

“ Then you must seek my son ; for if the lady be 
here, as you say, it is his business, and none of mine.” 

“Your son, sir,” replied Niccoli, while he gave 
a meaning look into the old noble’s face, “is be- 
fore this within the dungeons of the ducal palace.” 

“ How ? Within the dungeons ?” exclaimed Triv- 
isano, starting with fear and alarm. 

“Yes; I have taken him away not fifteen min- 
utes since.” 

There was no indignation, no resentment nor 
anger in the feelings of Marino Trivisano at that 
moment, for fear alone found a place there. The 
first thought that flashed across his mind was of 
his plot, of its detection, and for several moments 
he slightly trembled in the spy’s presence. 

“You seem deeply affected at the intelligence,” 
remarked Niccoli, as he noticed the effects of his 
communications upon the old man’s mind. 

“Of what has my son been guilty? what has 
he done ?” asked the father, as he once more found 
his tongue. 

“ What has he done ? He has broken the peace 
of the city, and trampled her laws under foot.” 

“ How — how ?” gasped the terror-stricken man, 
as the fear of detection thickened in his soul. 

“ He has hired a ruffian of the canal to steal 
away the daughter of Vivaldi, and with her arms 
pinioned, and her cries for mercy stopped; he 
forced her to this palace. I tell thee, Trivisano, 
that Venice will not brook such an insult to the 

i 

sacred honor of her orphan homes.” 


A STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT. 


179 


“Is that all r 

“ It is all ; and methinks it is enough.” 

Marino Trivisano drew a long breath, and once 
more his heart beat easier in his bosom. The fear- 
ful cloud had passed, and his secret, he thought, 
was safe ; and turning a bold look upon the spy, he 
said 

“You take much liberty, sir, at all events, in 
thus entering a nobleman’s house ; but if the rash 
boy has been guilty of such misdemeanor, he 
should certainly be punished. If you will follow 
me, I_will search for the lady whom you seek.” 

The old nobleman led the way, and as he did 
so his face, which was turned from the spy, wore 
an expression of malignant triumph. He thought 
that the power which now upheld the powerful 
Niccoli would soon be no more — that he himself 
would have the handling of those whom he now 
feared. 

“In that room,” said Trivisano, as he stopped 
before a door at one extremity of the palace, “ you 
will find Lady Isidora, and of course you are at 
liberty to do as you please with her.” 

Niccoli thanked the old man for his kindness, 
and withdrawing the bolts he opened the door and 
entered the small drawing-room which led to the 
principal chamber beyond. Here he stopped and 
knocked, and receiving a request to enter, he at 
once obeyed it. 

Isidora Vivaldi had risen from her seat, for she 
dared not trust herself upon the bed ; but as her 
eyes rested upon the form of the spy, the trembling 
which had seized her frame was stilled in a mo 


18 © 


A STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT. 


ment, and with the confidence of a child toward its 
parent, she sprang forward and laid her head upon 
his sinewy arm. 

“ O, sir,” she cried, as she raised her eyes im- 
ploringly to his face, “ you have come to save me— 
I know you have !” 

“Yes, lady, I have come to save thee; and he 
who has thus dared to trample on your rights will 
have poAver to trouble thee no more. I trust that I 
am in time to save you from all harm.” 

“I have not been troubled, sir, since I was 
brought here, excepting by my own fears ; but 
even they were enough to harrow up my soul.” 

“Has the young noble ever offered violence to 
you before ?” asked Niccoli of her. 

“ Yes, sir. Once he even came to my dwelling him- 
self and attempted to take me away ; but at that 
time I was rescued by the man whose very name 
makes me shudder, and causes my blood to run cold.” 

“ Was it the bravo ?” 

“Yes,” answered Isidora, with a shudder. 

For a moment the fair girl gazed into the face of 
the spy after she answered, and then, as the simple 
pronunciation of that fearful name brought to her 
mind more vividly the picture of her dreary or- 
phanage, she burst into tears. 

“ Why should you weep thus, lady ?” asked Nic- 
coli, as he drew her toward an open window, where 
the cool air might blow upon her brow. 

“ Why should I not weep ?” she answered, as she 
pushed back her dark tresses, that the breeze 
might play more freely around her heated temples. 
“ What has fate not done for my misery ?” 


A STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT. 181 

“ Fate, did you say ?” repeated the spy, as he fixed 
his piercing eyes upon her. ‘ ‘ Did fate give that 
life to the old man whose loss you mourn ?” 

Isidora understood the reproof, and for several 
moments she was silent, but at length she raised 
her head, and said : 

“I know, sir, that he whose heart is free from 
the anguish that loads down mine can see with a 
clearer vision the inconsistency of the mourners 
repinings ; but grieFlike mine makes the soul its 
utter servant, and from its life springs naught 
comes forth save bitter, burning thoughts of suf- 
ferings.” 

“Come hither,” said the spy, and drawing Isi- 
dora still nearer the window, he continued, as he 
pointed to the bright, full moon, which had not 
long been up from its bed in the Adriatic : 

“ Look upon yon bright orb, which now sends 
its cheering light upon Venice. But a few hours 
since all was darkness and gloom, and a damp, 
thick cloud enveloped the city. The same power 
which laid that cloud over us has now taken it 
away. He has sent his niglit queen to illuminate 
the dreary places of his earth, and all around us, 
in the blue arch of his heavens, he has set those 
sparkling gems which seem to syllable their 
Maker’s praise. Before long, even they shall melt 
away before the mighty majesty of greater light, 
and Venice shall bask in the bright effulgence of 
full-dawned day. Now, tell me, lady, will not that 
Power which thus overlooks a mere planet, that 
may at some future time be crumbled into atoms, 
care more for an immortal soul — a soul which 


l&i A STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT. 

throughout the endless ages of eternal reign shall 
revolve within a halo of endless peace — a peace 
made glorious by the very fact that from within its 
influence not a human soul which he has made shall 
be shut out forever V 

Isidora still wept, as her strange companion 
spoke, but her tears were not so bitter, though they 
flowed fully as fast as before. 

“I cannot but feel thankful for a friend like 
thee, for thou speakest to m® as one who has a 
heart to feel that which he utters. And yet,” she 
continued, as she brushed away the tears from her 
cheeks, and gazed with a peculiar look of mingled 
confidence and reproof up into his face, “ you did 
but a few days since paint to me fears which were 
as dark as night itself. ” 

“Because I would have prepared thee for the 
blow which I feared was to follow : but, lady, X 
knew not that thy father was to die.” 

“Alas, the blow has come, and it has stricken 
my every joy ; but I will not repine ; for well I 
know that my Creator doth His pleasure, and in 
my holy, happy faith I believe that what is His 
pleasure is my highest good. Yet my tears shall 
flow, nor would. -I stop them if I could, for my 
blessed Saviour wept when His friend was taken 
away, and by His divine example, tears have been 
made as heavenly dews which fall with a cooling 
influence upon the fever of our griefs.” 

Niccoli looked with astonishment upon the al- 
most heavenly features of the beautiful girl, and 
his own heart beat in answer to her sentiments. 
For some minutes both stood by that open window, 


A STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT. 


1§3 


and gazed out upon that moonlit scene ; but even 
the most casual observer would have noticed that 
their thoughts were not following in the direction 
of their gaze, for there was a calm, tranquil expres- 
sion upon their features, which accorded not with 
the brilliant and varying scene that lay stretched 
out around them. 

“Come, lady,” said the spy, as he at length 
stepped back from the window ; “it wants but an 
hour of daybreak, and I would have thee seek thy 
rest as soon as may be. I will conduct thee to thy 
home, but to-night your presence will be needed at 
the ducal palace.” 

“At the ducal palace ?” repeated Isidora, in sur- 
prise. 

“Yes.” 

“ But for what am I wanted ?” 

“You may be wanted to give your evidence 
against a criminal.” 

“ Stop, sir, stop !” exclaimed the fair girl, as she 
withdrew herself from the hand that would have 
supported her, and fixed a determined look upon 
him. “ Do you speak of Alberte Lioni V 

“No, lady. Alberte Lioni will to-night go free 
and he shall bear the name of Lioni no longer. ” 

“ Then who else can it be ?” uttered Isidora, 
rather to herself than to her companion. 

“ Marco Martelino.” 

“The bravo?” 

“Yes.” 

“And has he been taken ?” 

“Not yet,” returned the spy ; “but within my 
possession I have papers which inform me where he 


184 


A STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT. 


will be to-night. Ah, Martelino, your tread in the 
senate chamber will be short, for the Spy of the Ten 
has you now within his power, and if this good arm 
wither not from my will, Venice shall fear you no 
more. But come, lady, throw your mantle over 
ytrar shoulders and follow me ; and mind, now, not 
a word of what I have told thee must thou lisp to a 
living soul.” 

As Isidora Vivaldi left the palace of the Lord 
Trivisano, she felt that a new epoch was about to 
dawn upon her life ; but whether its dawning should 
be for weal or for woe, still lay hidden within that 
dark future which even hope itself failed to pene- 
trate. 


CHAPTER XXn. 


THE CONCLUSION. 

The sun has again risen upon Venice, and again 
has it gone to its rest in its western home ; the peo- 
ple have once more sent forth their merry song and 
happy greeting, once more closed their occupations 
for the day, and once again are they sporting upon 
the hundred canals, seeming unconscious of every- 
thing save the sports and pastimes, the joys and 
pleasures, or the pains and misery of the present. 
Toward the ducal palace the senators and the mem- 
bers of the council were beginning to wend their 
way, and as they went, either upon the pavement 
or upon the canal, they wore upon their counte- 
nances those sure indications of wonder which man- 
ifest themselves when men are unexpectedly called 
upon for the transaction of an important business, 
the nature of which they are ignorant. Some there 
were who knew the nature of the call, but they were 
very few, and to all the questions they gave merely 
a significant nod. 

The large hall of the senate was open only at the 
main entrance, and only the usual guard were sta- 
tioned there. When the Lord Trivisano entered, he 
looked nervously around, but everything wore its 
usual aspect. The officers of the chamber were in 
an easy and social chat ; the soldiers at the door 
seemed conscious of nothing more than a common 
duty, and with a comparatively easy step he 


186 


THE CONCLUSION. 


ascended to his seat. At length the Lord Castello 
entered, and the moment his eye caught the form 
of Trivisano he stepped forward to where the old 
noble sat. 

“Speak not in a manner too earnest,” whispered 
Castello, “but let us appear to smile at our light 
thoughts. The signals are ready ; one is upon the 
piazza without under charge of a faithful man ; one 
at the housetop of the next corner ; and one at St. 
Mark’s; and the men are all placed ready to obey 
them at the moment.” 

“ But have you seen the bravo ?”* 

“Be not too earnest or we shall be observed,” 
whispered Castello, with a light, merry laugh. “I 
have just left the bravo upon the piazza of St. Mark. 
He wears the disguise of the Genoese ambassador, 
and his entrance into the hall at ten o’clock will be 
the signal. Everything without is secure, and we 
have only to make sure of our game in the hall. I 
am sorry that the Lord Alfonso has escaped ; but 
that cursed Niccoli smelt the fire, and he has kept 
the old inquisitor safely confined. But never mind, 
there is consternation enough already for our pur- 
pose, the rest will come dropping in at intervals, but 
do not recognize them. They are all right.” 

While Castello had been speaking he had lolled in 
an easy, careless manner upon the front of Triv* 
isano’s desk, and his conversation was frequently 
interspersed with hearty bursts of laughter, so that 
no one would have believed, had they even suspected 
its possibility, that he was plotting for murder and 
rebellion. 

The hall was at length filled; the nobles were all 


THE CONCLUSION. 


TS7 


ih their seats, and shortly the doge, accompanied by 
the Lord Alfonso, and two dark-robed inquisitors of 
the lesser court, who had been called upon to fill the 
chairs of Vivaldi and Blenzi, entered, and the former 
took the ducal chair. Hardly had the duke of the 
commonwealth called that vast assemblage to order, 
when the door of a small ante-room, nearly in the 
rear of his seat, was opened, and the Spy of the 
Ten, followed by Alberte Lioni and Isidora Vivaldi, 
entered the chamber. The two latter were seated 
near the doge, who smiled graciously upon them as 
he beheld their careworn and troubled features; but 
some there were who did anything but smile when 
they saw the young artist thus within the hall. 
Marino Trivisano turned uneasily in his seat, gazing 
first upon one and then upon another of his coad- 
jutors, but none of them seemed to notice him; for, 
as they sat nearer the large doors, a strange and 
unusual sound, like the dang of arms, fell upon 
their ears, which reached not his. A general move- 
ment took place in the hall, as those nearest the en- 
trance betrayed the surprise which the noise occa- 
sioned, but before many minutes the clang died 
away, and once more all was still. While all eyes 
were turned toward the doge, as if to inquire why 
this silence reigned, Niccoli stepped forth from the 
place where he had stood, and advancing toward 
the large open space within the center of the hall, 
he was the first to break the stillness. 

‘‘ Your most serene highness,” he said, addressing 
the doge, “and you, nobles of Venice, know full 
well that within the last few weeks our good city 
has been thrown into the utmost state of alarm by 


THE CONCLUSION. 


186 

the fearful threats and still more fearful deeds of 
Marco Martelino. None knew why he did these 
things, nor how he did them, but a weeping, sor- 
rowing people tell us they are done. Long have 
you looked to me as the man upon whose shoulders 
the duty of seeking out these things had fallen, and 
to the utmost of my ability have I endeavored to do 
your bidding, and this night I trust your enemies 
will be no more able to do you harm. Within my 
very hand I hold a paper which contains the par- 
ticulars of a most daring and bloody plot, which 
was this very night to have been executed within 
this very chamber.” 

For an instant the spy stopped and gazed about 
the hall. Consternation and alarm were pictured 
on every countenance, and each looked upon his 
neighbor in silent inquiry. Marino Trivisano turned 
white as a ghost, but the others of the conspirators 
grasped the hilts of their daggers, and stood ready 
for defence. Niccoli advanced to the seat of the 
doge and handed him the paper, remarking as he 
did so: 

“I found this, your highness, in the private 
apartment of the Lord Andria Morosini.” 

The old senator, whose name had been called, 
sprung from his seat, and while the utter consterna- 
tion of the moment deprived him of the power of 
utterance, he would have rushed to the chair of 
the duke, but Niccoli held him back. Trivisano 
breathed again, for he thought his false plan had 
served him, and his companions in guilt let go 
their daggers. 

“ Horrible, horrible !” murmured old Dandola, as 


THE CONCLUSION. 


189 


he read over the names which were signed to the 
paper which he held in his hand; and then, while a 
cold shudder passed over his frame, he handed it 
back to Niccoli, saying, as he did so: 

“ You know your duty, let it be done.” 

The spy made a movement toward the large 
doors, and as they opened, a strong guard of sol- 
diers entered the hall. 

“ Seize upon Lord Andria Morosini, and hold him 
your prisoner,” exclaimed the doge, as he started up 
from his chair. 

“ Hold, your highness !” returned Niccoli, as his 
eyes flashed with an unwonted fire. “ The marshal 
knows his duty.” Then turning to the leader of 
the soldiers, he continued: 

“You know your prisoners; take them.” 

What means that movement of the marshals ? 
The doge was thunderstruck at what followed. 
There sat those nobles whom he had expected to 
see taken, and nine others were prisoners in the 
hands of the soldiers. Trivisano, Castello, Dolfino, 
Polani, Masto, Cordino, Floridi, Mentoni and Stef- 
fani, all of them nobles of Venice, stood bound 
before him. They had been taken so suddenly, so 
unexpectedly, that no opportunity for defence had 
been given them. 

“I see you are surprised, your highness,” said 
Niccoli, as the prisoners were secured; “ but you shall 
now have the truth. That paper which I handed to 
you was but a false light, a mere sham, thrown out 
by Marino Trivisano for the purpose of covering, in 
case of premature detection, his own and his ac- 
complices’ guilt. Here is the true plot.” 


THE CONCLUSION. 


59 ® 

As he spoke he handed to the doge the real plan 
which he had taken from the cabinet of Trivisano. 
That gray-haired traitor knew the parchment as 
soon as he saw it, and but for the support of his 
captors he would have fallen to the floor. He knew 
that his race was run, and without uttering a 
syllable he gave himself up to hopeless despondency. 
That giant power — ambition — no longer held him 
up, his heart no longer felt the spur of his daring 
hopes; and while the forms of those around him 
began to grow dim and indistinct in his fluttering 
vision, he sank back upon a seat. 

‘ ‘ May God and San Marco defend us !” ejaculated 
the doge, as he read the plan of that murderous 
plot. “But,” and he trembled as he uttered it, 
“ this fearful, terrible bravo, this Marco Martelino, 
is still at liberty. Cannot Venice be delivered from 
further deeds of his dreadful vengeance ?” 

As the doge ceased speaking, Niccoli strode for- 
ward, and while an agitation, never before known 
to affect him, shook his frame, he gazed in silence 
around upon the assembled multitude. At length 
his eyes rested once more upon the old doge, and in 
a calm, steady tone, he said : 

■ ‘ My lord duke, the person of Marco Martelino is 
in my power, either to retain or to deliver up.” 

“ In thy power ?” exclaimed the doge. 

“ Marco Martelino !” cried Alfonso. 

“The bravo!” came from all parts of the hall, 
while all seemed to look and tremble as though they 
expected to see the fearful object of their terror rise 
up from the very marble pavement in the floor. 

“Yes,” returned the spy, with a melancholy and 


THE CONCLUSION. 


m 

downcast expression. “I can deliver up to your 
keeping and to your will, your much-dreaded enemy; 
but before I do this there is one other matter I 
would have settled.” 

- “Name it,” said the excited doge. 

“ To you, your highness, belongs the superior 
privilege of introducing matters of importance to 
the great council. They are to-night all present, 
and to your disposal I give this document.” 

As he spoke he drew from his bosom a parchment 
roll, and handed it to Dandolo. As the doge read it 
over he turned first deadly pale, then a deep flush 
overspread his features, and raising his eyes to the 
face of the spy, he said : 

“This was written years ago; but by San Marco, 
it was a fearful, deadly plot. And has Lord 
Trivisano been so long a traitor ?” 

“You understand the purport of that instrument, 
do you not V inquired the spy, without moving a 
muscle. 

“ Certainly,” replied the doge, with a shudder. 
“ I see that it is the minute plan of a rebellion, fully 
as bloody in its conception as was this from which 
you have just saved us; and I see, too, that Marino 
Trivisano was its projector.” 

“Then here is a paper, my lord duke,” continued 
the spy, as he handed another roll to the doge, 
“ which I have taken from the archives of the Ten. 
Will you have the goodness to read it 

Francesco Dandolo took the paper, which bore 
upon its back the closed seal of the Ten, and with 
careful gaze he read it through. As he closed, a 


THE CONCLUSION. 


i yia 

strange light beamed from his eyes, and starting to 
his feet, he exclaimed : 

“ Now, by my good faith, Niccoli, I see all thou 
wouldst have me,” and then, while his limbs 
trembled with the fearful agitation that raged with- 
in, he turned to the wondering nobles and cried : 

“ May God give us pardon, my lords and nobles, 
for the foul wrong the state has done one of its no- 
blest sons. Within my hand I hold two papers. 
One of them is the true plan of a plot for the entire 
overthrow of the Venetian government, drawn up 
by lord and senator Marino Trivisano, twelve years 
ago ; the other is another plan of the same plot and 
drawn at the same time, and written by the same 
hand, and, like the first instrument which I received 
to-night, bearing the forged name of an innocent 
man. Upon the authority of this forged instru 
ment, aided by .the evidence of the traitorous villain 
who wrote it, the good Giovanni Marcello was ban- 
ished, while Marino Trivisano, the real culprit, has 
gone free ! Speak, Trivisano, how stands this 
mighty guilt upon thy soul *” 

At the first mention of the paper which he had 
thought safe in the secret recesses of his cabinet, 
and which he had only kept for the aid it might 
give him in other operations, Lord Trivisano had 
raised himself from his fallen position, and had 
heard all that the doge bad said. As the flashing 
eyes of the duke rested full upon him, he strained 
his weakening orbs to their fullest capacity, and 
without rising from his’seat he replied : 

“ Alas, my sun has set in utter darkness, and my 
hopes are gone. Venice must still continue to bear 


THE CONCLUSION. 


193 


the weight of her thousand useless officers, and I — I 
shall never see a crown ! Yes, my lord duke, I did 
plot, twelve years ago, for the subversion of your 
tyrannical government, and Giovanni Marcello was 
an innocent victim of your ill-timed justice.” 

Until the present moment Alberte Lioni had kept 
his seat, but he could sit no longer, and springing 
from his chair, he exclaimed, as he advanced to- 
ward the doge : 

“ My lord duke, after what has been brought to 
light here, may I not demand of the council, through 
your highness, that the name and title of my father 
be restored to the senate ? May I not demand, as 
the only son of Giovanni Marcello, that his estates 
should be restored to me ?” 

It took the council but a few minutes to render in 
a decision which was based upon such palpable evi- 
dence, and before long the doge arose in his place 
and in a loud voice proclaimed : 

“ Senators and nobles of Venice, the state, through 
ignorance, has done grievous wrong to Lord Gio- 
vanni Marcello, and his memory has been wrong- 
fully held in contempt , but the guilt must rest alone 
upon the sin-stained soul of him who has so foully 
and basely deceived us ; but it yet lies in our power 
to somewhat repair the injury. The banished noble, 
alas ! is no more ; the weight of his country’s 
wrongs has hastened him to a distant, foreign grave ; 
but his memory shall be honored, his name shall 
once more take its place upon the patrician roll, 
and his estates shall go to his son by legal entail.” 
Then turning to the young man who still stood be- 
fore him, the old doge continued : “To you, young 


194 


THE CONCLUSION. 


man, the great council return the name you justly 
inherit. You are no longer Lioni, but Alberte Mar- 
cello, a noble of Venice, and an heir to a seat in her 
supreme council.” 

The lips of the youth parted, and he would have 
returned an answer, but if he spoke at all, his words 
were drowned by the loud shout that went up from 
those around, and a hundred eager hands were 
stretched forth to grasp the newly-found noble. 
Alberte Marcello returned their greetings with hap- 
py tears of thankfulness, and at the first opportu- 
nity he glided through the crowd and sought the 
side of Isidora Vivaldi. He grasped her trembling 
hand within his own, and then gazing for a mo- 
ment into her tearful but yet placid countenance, he 
murmured the simple name “Isidora,” and laid his 
head upon her shoulder. For the moment that fair 
girl lost her own griefs in the sudden rapture of 
seeing him whom she fondly loved raised to the 
fruition of his highest hopes ; but a sense of melan- 
choly soon pervaded her soul again with its dark 
beams, and though she felt happy for another, yet 
she felt forlorn for herself. 

“ Now,” said the doge as the assembly was once 
more in order, “we must look to thee, Niccoli, for 
the fulfilment of your promise.” 

“ And you would have the bravo ?” 

“Yes,” returned the doge, with a perceptible 
tremor. 

The spy stepped forward, while a strange trem- 
bling shook his stout form, and alight teardrop glis- 
tened on either lid. He swept the large assembly 
with his keen gaze, then to the duke, he said : 


THE CONCLUSION. 


195 


“ You will find Marco Martelino, but in him you 
will lose your Niccoli forever !” 

As he spoke, the long robe of his office fell from 
his shoulders, his powerful form bent slightly for. 
ward till the back turned to a gentle hump, th* 
light wavy hair was taken away from his head, and 
where, but an instant before, had dwelt the cunning 
quickly- varying gaze of the spy, now towered, in its 
majesty of conscious power, the dark, bold and 
daring features of the dreaded bravo ! 

For several minutes not a person spoke in that 
large hall, but every heart beat with a fearful quick- 
ness as they beheld this mysterious metamorphosis, 
and with trembling awe they gazed upon that 
strange man as they would upon an uncaged lion. 
Trivisano and his companions no longer wondered 
that the plot should have been discovered, but they 
did wonder that their companion should condemn 
himself to certain death. Martelino waited till the 
first shock of astounding surprise had passed, and 
then, unclasping his belt, and laying his heavy 
sword, together with his sharp dagger, upon the 
table of the duke, he said : 

“ Now look upon the man you have so long fear- 
ed. Marco Martelino stands before you and awaits 
your pleasure.” 

“ Do my eyes deceive me, or is this a fearful 
reality ?” murmured the old doge, as he strained hi8 
eyes upon the towering form before him. “Is it 
possible that we have lost our preserver in the per- 
son of the bravo ?” 

“ And is he not your preserver still ?” asked Mar- 
telino, not changing a feature. 


196 


THE CONCLUSION. 


“ Alas, ’tis too true!” returned the doge; “and 
yet he is a murderer.” 

“My lords,” said Martelino, as he raised his head 
and looked proudly around him, “ I have this night 
saved Venice from almost sure destruction. In 
what have I offended thee that you should brand 
me with murder ?” 

“In what ?” repeated the doge, wondering at the 
strange assurance of the bravo. “ Where, tell me, 
are the Lords Vivaldi and Blenzi ?” 

“ Where ?” repeated the bravo, in turn. “Where 
should they 'be, at such a time as this, but in their 
seats !” 

Instinctively every eye was turned to the spot 
where sat the state inquisitors. Those two dark- 
robed men had removed their cowls, and a loud cry 
of astonishment went up as the people beheld, in- 
stead of those whom they had thought mere sub- 
stitutes, the well-known features of the two missing 
nobles. 

Isidora Vivaldi rose to her feet, and would have 
started forward, but her father came quickly down, 
and while her heart leaped and her every nerve 
trembled with the delirium of such sudden joy, she 
laid her head upon his bosom, and the thanksgiving 
which the tongue could not utter, flowed forth in 
happy tears. 

From the two nobles, who seemed thus almost to 
have risen from their graves, the eyes of the people 
turned to the bravo. He saw the inquiring gaze, 
and he knew that utter astonishment had deprived 
them of the power to question, and sweeping the 
dark locks back from his brow, he asked *. 


THE CONCLUSION. 


197 


“ Have ye aught against me now ?” 

A rimultaneous “ No,” burst from all lips, and 
at length the doge stepped down from his throne, 
and grasping the hand which but a moment before 
he thought red with blood, he said : 

‘ ‘ Let me, in behalf of the people of the com- 
munity, grasp the hand of him who has this night 
saved Venice. And now,” he continued, “ may we 
not know the deep secret which lies hidden beneath 
your mysterious manner ? May we not know why 
you sought revenge against Venice V 

“ My lord duke,” replied the bravo, in a tone so 
deep and meaning that all were startled by its 
strange power, “years ago Venice did me a foul 
wrong, and in my soul I vowed I would be re- 
venged. With an untiring step and steady purpose 
have I followed up my determination, and to-night 
my revenge is consummated. Venice cast me 
forth from her councils, she branded me as a 
traitor, and she took from me my fair name, and 
now I have saved her from destruction in the hour 
when she knew not her peril.” 

“Revenge, did you say ?” murmured the old 
doge, while his eyes filled with tears. “Ah, yes, 
’twas a revenge, a noble, Godlike revenge. But 
who are you ? There is yet something we do not 
know.” 

“ Does no one guess the bravo’s secret ?” asked 
the strange man, as he drew his slightly rounded 
shoulders up to their natural form, and turned his 
flashing eyes around. “ Can no one guess it 
now ?” 

As he spoke, he thre w off the brown shirt w T hick 


198 


THE CONCLUSION. 


he had worn, and beneath it flashed the rich velvet 
doublet of a Venetian count and senator. He did 
not change a muscle of his features, but there they 
were in all the boldness and commanding power of 
their former cast, still towering in the majesty of 
nobility, and still darkened by the flowing, sable 
locks that had marked the bravo. 

Alberte alone comprehended the truth. He now 
could translate the mystic language of his picture ; 
for with the simple word “Father,” upon his lips, 
he sprang forward and was clasped in the embrace 
of Giovanni Marcello. 

The senate chamber is once more still and quiet, 
for all ears are listening for an explanation from 
the lips of Lord Marcello. 

“You wonder, my lord duke, and you, nobles of 
Venice, at what you have seen,” commenced Mar* 
cello, “but in a few words I can explain it all. 
When you banished me from Venice, I knew that 
Marino Trivisano had given evidence against me, 
but I knew not how deeply he himself was guilty. 
But after I had obtained permission for my son to 
return to his native city under another name, and 
pursue his studies, I received an anonymous com- 
munication, informing me that one of the most 
powerful nobles of Venice had forged the paper 
upon the evidence of which I was condemned, and 
that the true plot was even then in existence, in 
the possession of him who had written the false 
one. My suspicions at once fell upon Trivisano, 
for I had heard that he was granted the use of my 
palace, and I immediately determined to commence 
a thorough search into the affair. With this in- 


THE CONCLUSION. 


199 


iention I assumed an easy, but still an impenetra- 
ble disguise ; then giving out that I was dead, and 
taking the name of Niccoli, I came back to Venice 
and went to work. My operations soon arrested 
the attention of the Ten, and by degrees I became 
the chief of your civil police, and in this capacity I 
began to get an inkling of a design on the part of 
one or two nobles to upset the government. Then 
it was that the idea of a new disguise occurred to 
me ; but a few years of exposure had so darkened 
my complexion, and the very idea of Marcello was 
so distant, that when I assumed the character of 
the bravo, I threw off all disguise, with the excep- 
tion of a hunch in the shoulders, which served to 
give me a more ferocious expression. 

“ In this character I was not long in gaining a 
notoriety ; for though I did nothing but threaten, 
still my threats were so dark and mysterious, so 
bloody and ferocious in their conception, that the 
name of Marco Martelino was soon sounded from 
one end of the city to the other, as a man who 
would not hesitate to cut the throat of the duke 
himself, if he could be paid for the job. It was not 
long before Marino Trivisano sought me out, and 
by degrees I worked myself into his confidence, and 
was at length made acquainted with the plan of 
the new conspiracy. I was hired to murder the 
three state inquisitors and the chief of the six 
superior councilors, and I knew if the work was 
not done I should fail to get at the bottom of their 
plans, so I agreed to do it. Vivaldi was the first to 
be removed ; and fearing to trust him with my 
secret till I had him within my power, I adminis- 


2 00 


THE CONCLUSION. 


tered to him a most powerful sleeping potion by 
means of inhalation, while he was in his bed, and 
ais soon as he was completely prostrated by its 
power, I took him to the Convent of Ban Marie, 
where, as soon as he revived, he consented to re- 
main. Blenzi was the next ; but as I knew not the 
secrets of his palace, I used stratagem to secure 
him. 

“ When he was out of the way I found that the 
consternation was so great that I had better not 
carry the deception further, so in the character of 
the spy, I contrived to keep the other two within 
the ducal palace, which gave the bravo sufficient 
reason for not killing them. Of course you will 
readily conceive how easy it was for the bravo to 
elude pursuit, and how easy it was for Niccoli to 
obtain his intelligence. I found, also, that Trivisano 
meditated evil against my son, and once, you know, 
he contrived to confine him in the dark dungeons 
beneath his palace ; so to shield him from all further 
danger, I made pretense of suspicion against him, 
that I might keep him safely in prison ; but before 
I did this I tried him to see if there dwelt in his 
bosom a spark of rebellion, and even in the charac- 
ter of the fearful bravo I could not repress the warm 
tears of paternal pride as I found him noble and 
true. Thus I followed up my plans, from step to 
step, until I not only got a full knowledge of all 
matters connected with the plot which has this 
night been brought to light, but I also sifted to the 
bottom the foul conspiracy by which you were once 
so basely deceived, and by which I was so deeply 
wronged. I have suffered much and long, but the 


THE CONCLUSION. 


201 


consummation of my highest hopes, and the confi- 
dence again of my fellow-citizens, is a sufficient re- 
muneration for all ; and if you, my lord duke, and 
nobles of Venice, have lost the services of the Spy 
of the Ten, you will at least have the satisfaction of 
knowing that you are in possession of the bravo’s 
secret.” 

For a moment after Lord Marcello took his seat, 
which he did by the side of his son, all was silent 
within the hall of state. Then came forth a gentle 
murmur, like the premonitory rumbling of an 
embryo earthquake, which gradually swelled and 
grew in power till it arose to heaven, the enraptur- 
ed bursting of a thousand human hearts, all over- 
flowing with thankful joy. 

* * * * * * 

Within the palazzo of Francis Vivaldi stood some 
of the most important personages of our story. There 
was Lord Marcello and his son, Vivaldi and his 
daughter, Blenzi and Alfonso, Francesco Dandolo, 
doge of Venice, and several of the capi. As we 
look in upon them now, all is hushed ; and as the 
light from a hundred sparkling lamps sends its rays 
across their features, a look of expectation is plainly 
beaming there. Lord Giovanni Marcello embraces 
his son and then leads him forth. Francis Vivaldi 
takes the fair Isidora by the hand, and imprinting 
a warm kiss upon her brow, he. says : 

“ My dear child, in what I am about to do I feel 
a happiness and pride that sends the warm blood of 
other days once more bounding through my veins ; 
but though I give thee to another, I cannot give up 


202 


THE CONCLUSION. 


one grain of the love which, springing from the 
pure heart of my daughter, must ever be the source 
of my highest joy.” 

As he spoke he placed her hand in that of Alberts 
Marcello, and before another word was spoken, a 
holy father of St. Mark stepped forward and per- 
formed the sacred ceremony which united as one 
forever those two hearts that even from prattling 
childhood had been interwoven by the silken cords 
of the soul’s purest affection. 

said old Marcello, as he wiped a tear from 
his dark cheek, and took the hands of the happy 
young couple in his own, “ though God may at times 
send upon us clouds so black and impenetrable that 
the soul sinks beneath them, yet the eye of a Chris- 
tian faith may overlook them all, and see within the 
care of Him Who doeth all things well, a bright 
and happy day which hath no night, and whose joyp 
and peace shall never have an end.” 


THE END. 



* 


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Hector Servadac. By Jules Verne 39 Arrow 

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not. By Julia Edwards 3 Eag-e 

Her Heart’s Desire. By Charles Garvice 41 Eagle 

Her Ransom. By Charles Garvice 50 Eagle 

Her Rescue from the Turks. By the author of Dr. Jack... 142 Eagle 

Hero of the Brigade, The. By Douglas Wells 14 Columbia 

His Fatal Vow. By Leon De Tinseau 23 Arrow 

His Great Revenge, Vol. I. By Fortune Du Boisgobey. .54 Magnet 
His Great Revenge, Vol. II. By Fortune Du Boisgobey.. 65 Magnet 

His Perfect Trust. By a popular author 69 Eagle 

Holding the Fort. By Ensign Clarke Fitch, U. S. N...— 11 Columbia 
Homestead on the Hillside, The. By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes.. 60 Arrow 

Honorable Mrs. Vereker, The. By The Duchess 62 Arrow 

House of the Wolf, The. By Stanley J. Weyman 10 Arrow 

House of Seven Gables, The. By Nathaniel Hawthorne.. 54 Arrow 

Humanity. By Sutton Vane 92 Eagle 

Hunchback of Notre Dame, The. By Victor Hugo 90 Arrow 

I 

Ideal Dove, An. By Bertha M. Clay 119 Eagle 

In All Shades. By Grant Allen 22 Arrow 

In Barracks and Wigwam. By Wm. Murray Graydon 36 Medal 

Inez. By Augusta J. Evans 82 Arrow 

Ingomar. By Nathan D. Urner 25 Arrow 

In His Steps: What Would Jesus Do. By Rev. Chas. M. 

Sheldon 1 Alliance 

In Love’s Crucible. By Bertha M. Clay 70 Eagle 

Inspector’s Puzzle, The. By Charles Matthew 84 Magnet 

In Sight of St. Paul’s. By Sutton Vane 129 Eagle 

In the Golden Days. By Edna Lyall 71 Arrow 

In the Reign of Terror. By G. A. Henty 35 Medal 

Iron Pirate, The. By Mav: Pemberton 48 Arrow 

Ishmael; or, in the Depths. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. 

South worth 86 Arrow 

J 

Jack. By Alphonse Daudet 59 Arrow r 

Jack and Three Jills. By F. C. Philips 14 Arrow 

Jack Archer. By G. A. Henty ,...19 Medal 

Jess: A Tale of the Transvaal. By H. Rider Haggard 83 Arrow 

John Needham’s Double. By Joseph Hatton... 41 Magnet 

Jud and Joe, Printers and Publishers. By Gilbert Patten.. 33 Medal 

K 

Kidnapped. By Robert Louis Stevenson 15 Arrow 

King or Knave. By R. E. Francillon 7 Arrow 

King’s Stratagem and Other Stories, The. By Stanley J. 

Weyman 61 Arrow 

King’s Talisman, The. By Sylvanus Cobb, Jr .21 Columbia 

Kit Carey’s Protege. By Lieutenant Lionel Lounsberry... . 8 Medal 
Klondike Claim, A. By Nicholas Carter 1 Magnet 

Iv 

Lady Audley’s Secret. By Miss M. E. Braddon 94 Arrow- 

Lady Evelyn. By May Agnes Fleming 141 Eagle 

La Tosca. By Victorien Sardou.... 61 Eagle 

Lawyer Bell from Boston, By Robert Dee Tyler 63 Eagle 

Lena Rivers. By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes 56 Arrow 


Leslie’s Loyalty. By Charles Garvice 17 Eagle 

Lieutenant Carey’s Luck. By Lieutenant Lionel Louns- 

berry 4 Medal 

Light That Failed, The. By Rudyard Kipling 1 Arrow 

Lilian, My Lilian. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller 106 Eagle 

Little Coquette Bonnie. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller 43 Eagle 

Little Cuban Rebel, The. By Edna Winfield 68 Eagle 

Little Lady Charles. By Effie Adelaide Rowlands 139 Eagle 

Little Lightning, the Shadow Detective. By Police Cap- 
tain James 70 Magnet 

Little Minister, The. By J. M. Barrie 96 Eagle 

Little Sunshine. By Francis S. Smith 10 Eagle 

Little Southern Beauty, A. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller.. 25 Eagle 

Little Widow, The. By Julia Edwards 13 Eagle 

Living Lie, A. By Paul Bourget 8 Arrow 

Locksmith of Lyons, The. By Prof. Wm. Henry Peck 83 Eagle 

Lorrie; or, Hollow Gold. By Charles Garvice 85 Eagle 

Los Huecos Mystery, The. By Eugene T. Sawyer 51 Magnet 

M 

Macaria. By Augusta J. Evans 80 Arrow 

Maddoxes, The. By Jean Middlemass 38 Arrow 

Major Matterson of Kentucky. By the author of Dr. Jack.. 58 Eagle 

Maltese Cross, The. By Eugene T. Sawyer 61 Magnet 

Man from India, The. By Nicholas Carter 50 Magnet 

Man of Mark, A. By Anthony Hope 98 Arrow 

Man Who Vanished, The. By Nicholas Carter 114 Magnet 

Man With a Thumb, The. By Barclay North 113 Magnet 

Marjorie Deane. By Bertha M. Clay 79 Eagle 

Marquis, The. By Charles Garvice 73 Eagle 

Marriage at Sea, A. By W. Clark Russell 11 Arrow 

Masked Detective, The. By Judson R. Taylor 82 Magnet 

Master of Ballantrae. By Robert Louis Stevenson 5 Arrow 

Matapan Affair, The. By Fortune DuBoisgobey 38 Magnet 

Mavourneen. From the celebrated play 76 Eagle 

Max. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 133 Eagle 

Meadowbrook. By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes 79 Arrow 

Midnight Marriage, The. By A. M. Douglas 6 Eagle 

Midshipman Merrill. By Lieutenant Lionel Lounsberry 15 Medal 

Mildred Trevanion. By The Duchess 40 Arrow 

Millionaire Partner, A. By Nicholas Carter 59 Magnet 

Miss Caprice. By the author of Dr. Jack 28 Eagle 

Miss Milne and I. By the author of “A Yellow Aster” 44 Arrow 

Miss Pauline of New York. By the author of Dr. Jack 23 Eagle 

Monsieur Bob. By the author of Dr. Jack 40 Eagle 

Mountaineer Detective, The. By C. W. Cobb 40 Magnet 

Mr. Lake of Chicago. By Harry DuBois Milman 19 Eagle 

Mrs. Bob. By the author of Dr. Jack 33 Eagle 

Muertalma; or, The Poisoned Pin. By Marmaduke Dey... 58 Magnet 

My Lady’s Money. By Wilkie Collins 58 Arrow 

Mysterious Case, A. By K. F. Hill 32 Magnet 

Mysterious Mail Robbery, The. By Nicholas Carter 13 Magnet 

Mystery of a Handsom Cab, The. By Fergus Hume 47 Magnet 

Mystery of a Madstone, The. By K. F, Hill 67 Magnet 

IV 

Nabob of Singapore, The. By the author of Dr. Jack 38 Eagle 

Nerine's Second Choice. By Adelaide Stirling 131 Eagle 

New Arabian Nights, The. By Robert Louis Stevenson. . .75 Arrow 

Nick Carter and the Green Goods Men 87 Magnet 

Nick Carter’s Clever Protege. By Nicholas Carter 108 Magnet 

Nobody’s Daughter. By Clara Augusta 127 Eagle 

None but the Brave. By Robert Lee Tyler 49 Eagle 

Northern Lights. By A. D. Hall 123 Eagle 

North Walk Mystery, The. By Will N. Harben 88 Magnet 

No. 13 Rue Marlot. By Rene de Pont Jest 96 Magnet 

Now or Never. By Oliver Optic..... 5 Medal 

6 


o 

Oft with the Old Love. By Mrs. M. V. Victor 46 EagLe 

Old Detective’s Pupil, The. By Nicholas Carter 10 Magnet 

Old Homestead, The. By Denman Thompson . 53 Eagle 

Old Mortality. By Young Baxter 103 Magnet 

Old Specie, the Treasury Detective. By Marline Manly.. 45 Magnet 

On the Firing Line. By Douglas Wells 7 Columbia 

On the Rack. By Barclay North 90 Magnet 

F* 

Partners, The. By Alphonse Daudet ,...67 Arrow 

Passenger from Scotland Yard, The. By H. F. Wood. .107 Magnet 

Past Master of Crime, A. By Donald J. McKenzie 104 Magnet 

Peter Simple. By Captain Marryat 30 Medal 

Phantom Future, The. By Henry Seton Merriman.-ft 78 Arrow 

Phantom ’Rickshaw, The. By Rudyard Kipling ...12 Arrow 1 

Philippines, The. By A. D. Hall 2 Historical 

Piano Box Mystery, The. By Nicholas Carter *.17 Magnet 

Plain Tales from the Hills. By Rudyard Kipling ...63 Arrow 

Playing a Bold Game. By Nicholas Carter.. 12 Magnet 

Poker King, The. By Marline Manly .80 Magnet 

Pope (Leo XIII.), A Life of the. By A. D. Hall 5 Historical 

Porto Rico. By A. D. Hall 3 Historical 

Post Office Detective, The. By George W. Goode 52 Magnet 

Prairie Detective, The. By Leander P. Ricardson .37 Magnet 

Prettiest of All. By Julia Edwards . .124 Eagle 

Pretty Geraldine. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller ....,.>.34 Eagle 

Price He Paid, The. By E. Werner ...51 Eagla 

Prince of the House of David, The. By Rev. Prof. J. H. 

Ingraham 43 Arrow 

Prisoner of Morro, A. By Ensign Clarke Fitch, U. S. N.. 4 Columbia 

Prisoners and Captives. By Henry Seton Merriman .85 Arrow 

Proud Dishonor, A. By Genie Holzmeyer 104 Eagle 

Puzzle of Five Pistols and Other Stories, The. By Nich- 
olas Carter 97 Magnet 


Queen Bess. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 1 Eagle 

Queen of Treachery, A. By T. W. Hanshew 93 Eagle 

R 

Red Camellia, The. By Fortune Du Boisgobey 64 Magnet 

Red Lottery Ticket, The. By Fortune DuBoisgobey 31 Magnet 

Revenue Detectives, The. By Police Captain James 42 Magnet 

Robert Hardy’s Seven Days. By Rev. Chas. M. Sheldon.. 2 Alliance 

Rogue, The. By W. E. Norris 9 Arrow 

Romance of a Poor Young Man, The. By Octave Feuillet..46 Arrow 

Romance of Two Worlds, A. By Marie Corelli 18 Arrow 

Rosamond. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller 57 Eagle 

Ruby’s Reward. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 2 Eagle 

Ruy Bias. By Victor Hugo 37 Arrow 

Sappho. By Alphonse Daudet 16 Arrow 

Saved by the Enemy. By Ensign Clarke Fitch, U. S. N.. 8 Columbia 

Saved from the Sea. By Richard Duffy 118 Eagle 

Scent of the Roses, The. By the author of Half a Truth.. 128 Eagle 
Sealed Orders; or, The Triple Mystery. By Nicholas 

Carter 95 Magnet 

Secret Service Detail, A. By Douglas Wells 5 Columbia 

Self-Raised; or, From the Depths. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. 

Southworth 87 Arrow 

Senator’s Bride, The. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller 20 Eagle 

Senator’s Favorite, The. Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller 5 Eagle 

Shadowed by a Detective. By Virginia Champlin... 106 Magnet 

Shadow of a Crime, The. Hall Caine 84 Arrow 

7 


Shenandoah. By J. Perkins Tracy 87 Eagid 

Sherlock Holmes Detective Stories, The. A. Conan Doyle. 72 Magnet 

She’s All the World to Me. By Hall Caine , 2 Arrow 

She Loved Him. By Charles Garvice 117 Eagle 

Sign of the Crossed Knives, The. By Nicholas Carter.. 79 Magnet 

Sign of the Four, The. By A. Conan Doyle 17 Arrow 

Silver Ship, The. By Leon Lewis 18 Medal 

Siren’s Love, A. By Robert Lee Tyler 31 Eagle 

Society Detective, The. By Oscar Maitland 34 Magnet 

Soldier Monk, The. By Ensign Clarke Fitch, U. S. N...17 Columbia 

Soldiers Three. By Rudyard Kipling 65 Arrow 

Soldier’s Pledge, A. By Ensign Clarke Fitch, U. S. N...12 Columbia 

Son of Mars, A. By the author of Dr. Jack 108 Eagle 

Spain and the Spaniards. By B. Essex Winthrop 8 Historical 

Span of Life, The. By Sutton Vane 103 Eagle 

Spider’s Web, The. By the author of Dr. Jack 71 Eagle 

Squire John. By the author of Dr. Jack 134 Eagle 

Steel Necklace, The. By Fortune DuBoisgobey 27 Magnet 

Stella Stirling. By Julia Edwards 62 Eagle 

Stolen Identity, A. By Nicholas Carter 9 Magnet 

Stolen Pay Train and Other Stories, The. By Nicholas 

Carter 101 Magnet 

Stolen Race Horse and Other Stories, The. By Nicholas 

Carter Ill Magnet 

Story of an African Farm, The. By Olive Schreiner 91 Arrow 

Stranglers of Paris; or, The Grip of Iron, The. (From the 

Celebrated Play) 28 Arrow 

Study in Scarlet, A. By A. Conan Doyle 3 Arrow 

Suspense. By Henry Seton Merriman .- 88 Arrow 

Sweet Violet. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller 91 Eagle 

Swordsman of Warsaw, The. By Judson R. Taylor 20 Columbia 

' 

'r 

Tempest and Sunshine. By Mary J. Holmes 53 Arrow 

That Dowdy. By Mrs. Georgia Sheldon 44 Eagle 

That Girl of Johnsons’. By Jean Kate Ludlum 140 Eagle 

Thelma. By Marie Corelli 55 Arrow 

Theodora. By Victorien Sardou 29 Eagle 

Three Musketeers, The. By Alexander Dumas 77 Arrow 

Thrice Wedded. Bj' Mrs. Georgia Sheldon 55 Eagle 

Through the Fray. By G. A. Henty 25 Medal 

Tina. By Mrs. Georgia Sheldon 77 Eagle 

Titled Counterfeiter, A. By Nicholas Carter 3 Magnet 

Toilers of the Sea, The. By Victor Hugo 30 Arrow 

Tom and Jerry, The Double Detectives. By Judson R. 

Taylor ^ 98 Magnet 

Tracked Across the Atlantic. By Nicholas Carter 4 Magnet 

Tragedy in the Rue de la Paix, The, By Adolphe Belot 32 Arrow 

Treasure Island. By Robert Louis Stevenson 24 Arrow 

True to the Old Flag. By G. A. Henty 29 Medal 

Try Again. By Oliver Optic — 9 Medal 

Twenty Years After. By Alexander Dumas... 99 Arrow 

Twin Detectives, The. By K. F. Hill 74 Magnet 

Twixt Love and Hate. By Bertha M. Clay 95 Eagle 

Two Keys. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 7 Eagle 

Two Plus Two. By Nicholas Carter 73 Magnet 

U 

Uncle Sam’s Ships. A History of our Navy. By A. D. 

Hall 6 Historical 

Under Fire. By T. P. James 75 Eagle 

Under His Thumb. By Donald J. McKenzie 28 Magnet 

Under the Deodars and Story of the Gadsbys. By Rudyard 

Kipling 70 Arrow 

Unseen Bridegroom, The. By May Agnes Fleming 136 Eagle 

Up the Ladder. By Lieutenant Murray 13 Medal 


Van Alstine Case, The, By Nicholas Carter 77 Magnet 

Van, the Government Detective. By Judson R. Taylor — 92 Magnet 

Vendetta. By Marie Corelli 36 Arrow 

Verdant Green, Mr., The Adventures of. By Cuthbert 

Bede, B. A 34 Medal 

Vestibule Limited Mystery, The. By Marline Manly 57 Magnet 

Victoria, Queen and Empress. By A. D. Hall 9 Historical 

Violet Lisle. By Bertha M. Clay 14 Eagle 

Virgie’s Inheritance. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 88 Eagle 

Virginia Heiress, The. By May Agnes Fleming 9 Eagle 

Vivier, of Vivier, Longmans Co., Bankers. By Barclay 

North 94 Magnet 

W 

Wall Street Haul, A. By Nicholas Carter 6 Magnet 

Wanted by Two Clients. By Nicholas Carter 81 Magnet 

War Reporter, The. By Warren Edwards 97 Eagle 

Wasted Love, A. By Charles Garvice 24 Eagle 

Wedded for an Hour. By Emma Garrison Jones 81 Eagle 

Wedded Widow, A. By T. W. Hanshew 137 Eagle 

Wheeling for Fortune. By James Otis 20 Medal 

When London Sleeps. From the Celebrated Play 

By Chas. Darrell.. 105 Eagle 

White Company, The. By A. Conan Doyle 81 Arrow 

White King of Africa, The. By William Murray Graydon..l6 Medal 

White Squadron, The. By T. C. Harbaugh 120 Eagle 

Whose Was the Crime? By Gertrude Warden 132 Eagle 

Whose Wife Is She? By Annie Lisle 110 Eagle 

Widowed Bride, A. By Lucy Randall Comfort 86 Eagle 

Widow Lerouge, The. By Emile Gaboriau 15 Magnet 

Wilful Winnie. By Harriet Sherburne . 72 Eagle 

Witch Hazel. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon.... 66 Eagle 

Wolves of the Navy. By Ensign Clarke Fitch, U. S. N..13 Columbia 

Woman Against Woman. By Effie Adelaide Rowlands 52 Eagle 

Woman’s Hand, A. By Nicholas Carter 16 Magnet 

Won at West Point. By Lieutenant Lionel Lounsburry. .21 Medal 

Won by the Sword. By J. Perkins Tracy 65 Eagle 

Won by Waiting. By Edna Lvall .........45 Arrow 

Workingman Detective, The. By Donald J. McKenzie. . .110 Magnet 

Wormwood. By Marie Corelli 47 Arrow 

Worth Winning. By Mrs. Emily Lovett Cameron 52 Arrow 

Wreck of the South Pole, The, By Charles Curtz Hahn.. 22 Columbia 

Y 

Yale Man, A. By Robert Lee Tyler 45 Eagle 

Yankee Champion, The. By Sylvanus Cobb, Jr 78 Eagle 

Yankee Lieutenant. The, By Douglass Wells 1 Columbia 

Young Colonists, The. A Story of Life and War in Africa. 

By G. A. Henty — — 14 Medal 

Young Mistley. By Henry Seton Merriman 95 Arrow 



Whenever Traveling, see that your Tickets read <oU 


The 

Popular 

Lines 


Lake Erie 

and Western R.R. 

FORT WAYNE, CINCINNATI & LOUISVILLE R.R. 


THE 

ORIGINAL 

NATURAL 

GAS 

ROUTE 


NORTHERN OHIO R’Y. 


New, Elegant Day Coaches 
Reclining Chair Cars 
•ts*®* 1 Parlor and Sleeping Cars 

QUICK SERVICE ® ACCOMMODATING EMPLOYEES 

HEBE ABE SOME OF THE PRINCIPAL POINTS ON THIS LINEi 

Indianapolis, Findlay, Peoria, Fort Wayne, Kokomo, Muncie, 
Bloomington, Fostoria, Peru, Connersville, Lafayette, Fremont, 
Michigan City, La Porte, Lima, Rushville, Sandusky, Akron. 


Remember you can secure, 


THROUGH TICKETS 


TO ANY PLACE 
DESIRED. 


Do not be afraid to ask for information. 


Address GEO. L. BRADBURY, C. F. DALY, 

Vice-President and General Manager, General Passenger Agent, 
G2 6 INDIANAPOLIS, IND. 




» — ■ — * » — ■- -« » — « • « >- » * ^X,i faJLil LJfi^ 


Chesapeake and 
Ohio Railway j 


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,# The most interesting historic associations 
and the most striking and beautiful scen- 
ery in the United States are linked to- 
gether by this system." 


VESTIBULED, ELECTRIC LIGHTED, 

STEAM HEATED, MODEL TRAINS 


BETWEEN 


New York 

Philadelphia • • Baltimore 
Washington 


and 


Virginia Hot Springs 
Cincinnati 

Louisville Chicago 

St. Louis 


DINING AND OBSERVATION CARS ATTACHED 

H. W. FULLER, General Passenger Agent, 
Washington, D. C. 

r 33 


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Runs Four Daily Summer Express Trains to 


ffhe "3em of the 
Mlantie 'Count 


AND ALSO REACHES 

The Natural Wonders of the White Mountains, 
The Weird Grandeur of the Dixville Notch, 

The Quaint Ways and Scenes of Quebec, 

The Multifarious Attractions of Montreal, 

& The Elegance of Poland Springs, 

The Inexhaustible Fishing of Rangeley, 

The Unrivaled Big Game Hunting of Aroostook 
and Washington Counties, 

The Unique Scenery of Moosehead, 

The Remarkable Healthfulness of St. Andrews, 
The PicturesqueTowns of the Land of Evangeline, 
The Matchless Scenery of Newfoundland, 


Making it the Renowned Vacation Sine 


Those who enjoy ocean sailing should take the pioneer line along the 
Coast of Maine, making landings at all the noted coast resorts east of 
Portland, and almost encircling the Island of Mt. Desert, the 


Portland, Mt. Bcoevt and Maekian Steamboat 'Co 


whose new, large and luxurious steamer, “ Frank Jones,” makes, during 
the summer season, two round trips per week between Portland, Rock- 
land, Bar Harbor, Machiasport and intermediate landings. 

Illustrated outlines, details of transportation and other information 
upon application to 

F. E. BOOTH BY, G. P. and T. Agent. 
GEO. F. EVANS, Vice-Pres. and Gen. Mgr 
PORTLAND, ME. 


Mention this book in applying - for 
folders and advertising - matter. 

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